Star's Journey: The Reunion
by Freida Right
Summary: -part V of V- Habaharan's rebellion has been crushed. The Shadow Lord has come to the Zebak Lands. All hope seems lost for Star and her family. But through a new Titan, an ancient Dragon, and a miracle, a band of famous heroes is coming to help them. After ages without number, the peoples of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air will be reunited at long last...
1. Story Thus Far

_**The Story Thus Far…**_

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 _It has been more than two years since Star of Rin left home with the source of her people's magic, on a mission to rescue her mother from the Zebak lands. Instead, she and her cousins have become involved with the rebels of Habaharan City, and have helped it gain its strength. Led by Zamiel Garased and his Night Watch squadron, the rebellion has spread across the city; most of its people, and most of Central Control, itself, are now prepared to fight for their freedom against their master, the Dragon Lord._

 _During her time in Habaharan, Star has had many adventures and changed a great deal. By night, she protects the people from capture and cruelty. She has invaded the city's most dangerous and terrible places, and survived. She has made friends with slaves, thieves, and pirates. She has even fallen for her friend Zan, and hopes to help him publish his plans for flying ships someday._

 _Star is happy in Habaharan, and no longer plan to return to Rin with her family. She has grown to love the city and its people, and feels that she belongs with them. Some of her cousins are not content with this; but Star has come of age, and can no longer be told what to do._

 _After years of gathering and waiting, the rebellion believed that its time had come when the Dragon Lord announced a great ball within the palace, inviting all of Central Control's legions to attend. Zamiel seized the opportunity and made a plan, calling his men mobilize. Urged by a prophecy, Star passed the Earth Sigil to Zan for safekeeping, and he hid it in his pocket._

 _It was then that disaster struck. Zadina, the queen and Dragon Lord, ensnared them with a dark, terrible magic. Central Control has been captured and led into the city's worst dungeon to die. Monstrous gray guards have stormed the city streets, burning, killing, and destroying all they touch. Star's whole family has been taken – only Vivi and Zizi, the orphaned thieves, and Star's little brother Evan have escaped._

 _Habaharan has fallen. The rebellion has failed. And, if Zadina speaks the truth, the Shadow Lord has come to the Zebak lands._

 _ **Now read on…**_


	2. Chapter 1: The First Day

_Chapter 1: The First Day_

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In the deep, dark night, Unos was flying west. The city called The Safe Place was far behind her, now, and the dark, cold waters of the sea were far below. The land called Maris lay at the other side, waiting for her, promising help and hope.

Her escape from the city had been simple, but daring. Human soldiers hadn't been patrolling the city's great wall that night. Monsters like men had been there instead, firing all manner of sharp, flaming weapons into a cloud of loosed grach wheeling over the city. Unos had feared dearly for Dollosus, her mate, who had insisted on joining their own kind while she took their only young to safety. She had flown over the wall, refusing to look back, even when the monsters had shouted in surprise and launched their weapons after her. None had made their mark, and she had escaped.

Rebel, the pup in her jaws, had squawked and trilled in excitement for the first part of the journey. She had liked to be so high in the air for the first time, and awed by her mother's fearlessness. She had peeped curiously, as well, asking where her father was and why he wasn't with them. With a heavy heart, Unos had commanded her baby not to ask such things anymore, and to just trust her. Rebel had been silent ever since, afraid that her mother was angry with her, and confused by all that had happened.

It had been a long time since Unos had made this journey. Small Star hadn't been born then; Red One and Sun Skin, her parents, hadn't even been married yet. But Unos had met them in those days long ago, and they had taken her away from her old life. They had brought her and her own people to a new, good place, where they had become free. The Lord of Earth had welcomed them in his land. Her dear ones were happy. She had never forgotten any of this, or all she owed them.

She remembered it today more than ever before. Far away in the Arin lands, Red One was a Titan now, great with deep magic. But his mate and his young were in terrible danger, and there was no easy way for him to reach them. He needed a miracle as desperately as they did.

Unos hadn't liked to leave her family to the unknown, but she had known what had to be done. Her mate had simply told her to find a place where she and their pup might remain alive. She had decided for herself that instead, she would return to her old home in the mountain's shadow. She needed help. Red One needed help. They would help each other, as they had from the day they met.

And so it was that Unos made the journey from the Zebak lands to the Arin lands once again, carrying less and yet so much more than she had before, not realizing that she was just the miracle her whole family was longing for.

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Below the palace of the Dragon Lord, in the heart of the Central Dungeon, Star was clinging to her mother in despair. Somehow, she had slept in the long hours of the night, exhausted from fear and weeping. She had woken some time ago, with no way of knowing how much time had passed; but she had felt empty and numb, without even the strength to cry again.

The rest of squadron C-57 languished in the cells around her, all of their heads bowed in thought and sadness. Star wondered what each of them was thinking. She wondered how many of them had bothered thinking or hoping for escape. She had visited these very cells once before, not long ago at all, and she knew very well that it was no easy feat.

She and her friends had always planned to return, someday, to free the prisoners they had been forced to leave behind that fateful night. Certainly, they hadn't planned for it to be this way. And there were suddenly so many more prisoners – all the legions of Central Control had been shoved into the dungeon over night. A successful rescue would be all but impossible, now.

Star heaved a heavy sigh, and it felt as though her heart was being torn in half. She had never known despair so aching and terrible, though little of it was for herself. Thoughts of the city she now called her own tormented her, as she pictured its building burning, its streets crawling with guards in gray uniforms, and its people cowering in fear. Memories of the boy she loved haunted her waking as they had her sleeping.

Zan had been whisked away before her eyes by means of dark magic, to take a punishment that had been meant for her. That terrible magic had banished him to the wastes beyond the city wall, to suffer and die in the way Central Control was taught from babyhood to fear most. Star's heart was broken over the loss of her dearest friend, but she was far too loyal to give up over that. She had promised him before that even if the worst happened, she would be strong and carry on, that all his hard work wouldn't be in vain. Even now, where her heartache and famously short temper met, a growing desire for vengeance was boiling in her belly.

But those memories brought shame, as well. Only Star and Zan had known, when he had vanished, that a treasure more precious than gold had been taken with him. In one of his hidden skirt pockets, Zan had carried the Earth Sigil. According to the thing's own will, Star had trusted and obeyed it. And now it was gone. Forever.

Since being shoved into the most heavily guarded cells in the dungeon, Star had told her mother and friends of this far too late. All had been shocked and saddened at how much more they had lost. Zamiel, their leader, was still trapped under a silencing spell and so had been unable to cry out with his men; it hadn't mattered, because the dismay in his face had been crushing enough. He had always felt so personally responsible for Star and her family, and the treasured magic she had carried with her. No doubt, he was at least as ashamed as she was.

But Zeel, her mother, had taken her tear streaked face in her strong hands and smiled as best she could. She had brushed in vain at those tears, insisting that she was proud of her.

"You did the right thing," she had said firmly, taking one of Star's torn, discarded skirts and scrubbing at the layers of her smeared cosmetics. "You listened to the deep magic in your heart, and you followed it, to whatever end. That takes a courage which most never find. I am proud of you, and your father would be, too."

But Star knew better. If her father had been there to see how miserably she had failed, how foolishly she had let the source of his magic out of her sight, she knew that he would be bitterly disappointed in her. She couldn't bear to think of the look on his face if he ever came to know of it. And yet, she wanted to see him again, one last time, more than she wanted to see anyone else. She longed to tell him how sorry she was for all the trouble she had caused him, and to say goodbye at last, and to just see and touch him again.

Perhaps her father would never know exactly what had happened to his family. Perhaps he would live the rest of his life holding fast to the hope that as long as he didn't know, they might still be alive. Perhaps it was better that way…

Her dreary thoughts were broken by the sharp, clacking sound of heels approaching. It was difficult to guess why, but Tiba Barsa came sauntering into the gloomy corridor, vain as always in fine clothes and jewels, just as Star remembered her from the night before. Her stomach lurched with repulsion to see the woman again so soon, but she was too tired and numb to feel anger. She almost didn't care.

No doubt, the traitorous woman had expected some kind of response from the squadron she had foiled so perfectly. She appeared with a smirk on her face, prepared to laugh at the insults and pleas they had for her. To her obvious disappointment, none of them responded. One or two looked up to see who was there, only to look away and ignore her. Self-absorbed as she was, it was truly the most insulting greeting they could give her.

"Good, we're all still here," she sneered, walking along the cells until she found Zamiel. "Have you nothing to say to me, my love? Nothing at all?"

Zamiel kept his gaze pinned on the floor. This was the person who had tricked his brother into betraying him, the whole reason why he and his men had been captured. He had more reasons to hate this woman than most.

"Oh, still so silent?" she teased. "Well, then I'll just have to find someone else to talk to. I've an incredibly pressing need for information, and I'm sure that _one_ of you must have it."

Tiba continued pacing along the cells, peering into each one and glancing over the people inside. She knew none of them personally, and wrinkled her nose with disinterest at each of them. Then she stopped again, enormously interested to find Star and Zeel together.

Star was prepared for more cruel words, more jabs about prophecies and destiny and how she had failed. Instead, Tiba spoke frankly, crisply, and mostly to Zeel. It was as though no one else was there.

"You know, you're not really that pretty. I don't know _what_ the master saw in you, when he's always had me… But no matter. In spite of it all, I think you can help me."

Zeel sighed sharply and dared to glance up at her. "If I answer your questions, will you leave us be?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid my fiancee's little brother gave me a bit of trouble, when last I saw him," Tiba explained. "My new powers and the trap I had set for him worked to perfection, and he gave me all I asked him for – your names, your numbers and weapons, the name of the healer woman who was hiding you. He even told me of the hidden rooms in her home, where you've been creeping around like rats all this time. I was thrilled and released him from my spell, as I said before, and summoned the guards to haul him off with the rest of you."

The squad was already terribly aware of this. Tiba had been using terrible, borrowed magic of her own to bewitch Zaneth, Zamiel's brother, into betraying them. She had ensnared his mind at least twice before, drilling him for information, then erasing his memories of it and replacing them with falseness. On their last meeting, he had been so grieved by what he had done that he had thrown himself from a high window. They all knew they would never see him again.

Tiba had been speaking with triumph in her face and voice. Now, it suddenly darkened, and a flash of fear glinted in her eyes.

"That is all I said in front of my master, of course. However, something else happened. The idiot came to his senses and realized what had been happening between us. He began panicking, and he blurted out some… Things. Things which must have been important to him, if he bothered to mention them. I saw that there was more I could learn from him, and so ordered my guards to hold him still while I worked my will once more. But he slipped out of their grasp and ran for the window. And now I can't get the answers from him."

She stepped closer to the bars and glared at Zeel. "That is where you people come in. Zaneth Garased mentioned several names in his panic – a Vivi, a Zizi, and an Evan, among others. Powerful allies of yours, I'm sure. He also mentioned something about log books, filled with even more names. So, tell me, what does all this mean? Who are your little friends? Where can I find these precious log books? Tell me!"

Zeel considered this revelation slowly, as all the rest of them were. Even Star felt her spirits lift to know the rest of the tragic tale. She saw now what had really happened. Zaneth had played a trick of his own on Tiba, to see just how much knowledge she had stolen from him, and how much more he could keep from her. He had learned that he had only betrayed his friends and family, not the rest of the rebels in the city. And so he had protected that knowledge in the only way he still could – by taking it all to his grave.

Before, Tiba had made his death to sound shameful and pathetic, which would have delighted all her masters. Now that the rebels knew the truth, they could see that he had died bravely, fighting for freedom in his own way. Because of what he had done, countless lives had been spared.

As Zeel thought it all over, she began to laugh without humor. In the other cells, the rest of the squad was snickering, too. Tiba was aghast to be laughed at by these prisoners, raking her eyes over them all in baffled anger.

"You made a mistake," Zeel commented, without answering the question. "A mistake which could cost you a great deal, if it were discovered. You came here to cover your tracks, before your precious master learns of your carelessness and punishes you for it. You would know better than anyone else, how Lord Azan punishes his people."

"That's not true!" Tiba snapped, stamping her foot like a child. "He would never hurt me! I am loyal to his house, and serve him well – unlike you treacherous leeches."

Somewhere in the cells, the voice of Zione barked a laugh. "Then go and tell him the truth, if you are so immune to his wrath, eh? Perhaps he will forgive your carelessness, this one time. Perhaps he will tell you how much he _loves_ you."

The rest of them began to laugh even harder. For sure, Tiba had made promises like those to lure Zaneth away, and planted them in his mind in place of the truth. It was refreshing to see this vile woman brought so low, when she was so cruel and arrogant. Her face was flushed scarlet with anger as she gripped the cell bars and shook them furiously.

"Tell me what you know, Zeel Moakel," she shrieked. "Tell me, _right_ now, or I'll – "

"Or you will what?" Zeel shouted back, rising to stare the younger woman down. Her face was grave, but filled with determination and defiance. "What will you do to make me talk? What do you think I still have that you can take from me?"

"I'll have you beaten," Tiba snarled back. "I'll have _all_ of you beaten, and I'll make you watch. I'll have everyone you've ever cared about killed before your eyes, and you'll have to – "

"All of that is already going to happen," Zeel said calmly. "It has already been decided that I will be made to suffer most of all. Whether it happens sooner or later is of no consequence, and threatening to alter that time will not convince me to change my mind about anything."

On the floor of the cell, Star could almost feel Tiba's blood boiling with rage, disappointment, and feverish fear. No matter what she claimed about her master's favor, she was acutely aware of what would happen if her small mistake turned the tides of the rebellion. In general Azan's mind, the idea of a few names and a few log books might not have seemed like much to worry over; but how could he know who those names belonged to? Warriors? Sages? Strategists? The information Zaneth had carried could have been nothing at all; but now, of all times, it couldn't be risked.

Tiba was desperate to correct her mistake before it came back to bite her. She would have killed them all for the knowledge, except that it clearly wouldn't help her.

Then Star tilted her head curiously, as another thought came to her.

"If you want to know so badly," she pointed out, "why not just ensnare my mother's mind and take what you're looking for? She's standing right in front of you and can hardly get away, and it worked so well for you before. It should be easy for you, with all the practice you've had recently."

Tiba seemed to freeze, gripping the bars of the cell so that her knuckles turned white. The look on her face proved to Star that she had guessed right, after all. It must have stung especially to be called out by the half-bred abomination she had never trusted, because Tiba was silent as stone. She looked as though she had been slapped by her master, himself.

Having heard and seen this for themselves, the rest of the squad quickly understood what it meant, and soon they were laughing at her again.

"Ah, but you can't, can you," Zak guessed from the cell behind her. "Your witchy powers were just on a loan, so you could do your queen a helpful service. Now that you've played your part and served your purpose, its been snatched right back, hasn't it? Ha! You have no power left at all, do you?"

"At least in here, we have each other," added Zara, from one of the further cells. "At least when we die, we will be together. The girl has even less than we do!"

"That is to be pitied," came the wise voice of Zane Ferren. "Our suffering will end soon and in friendship. She will have to languish alone, with no power and no master. Don't bother pitying the happy dead now, friends; pity those who will remain, as she will."

Utterly humiliated as well as furious, Tiba stamped her foot again; then, wailing like a specter, she turned and fled. It was strange to think that she had feelings to be hurt at all, but her heart was plainly aching with fear and anger. For years, she had strutted around the city as if she was someone of real power. Today, she was being brutally reminded that she was still just a slave, and that she meant very little to anybody.

Star glanced down the rows of cells until she spotted Zamiel, and was relieved to see that he was chuckling silently to himself over what had just happened. He knew the truth of why his brother died. He knew that Tiba had been tricked and bitterly used, very much the same as she had tricked and used Zaneth. It wasn't much in the way of revenge, but he was satisfied with it.

It felt incredibly petty to Star, against the fact that those of their family who had escaped would be safe. Of course, Tiba couldn't know that the names she had mentioned belonged to young children with no real power to change anything. Better yet, she had no clue that one of them was Star's baby brother, an abomination in the eyes of the Dragon Lords, who would have also been destroyed in the worst ways out of spite. Star felt a wave of relief flood her heart over that. Perhaps Evan, her brother, would survive somehow, grow into a fine young man, and take up the destiny his sister hadn't been able to handle. Perhaps he was the child of prophecy the Dragon Lord had been so frightened of.

Star looked up at her mother, who was brushing at her clothes and hair as if to shake an illness off herself. Her brows were knitted together in annoyance over their unwanted visitor. Her eye had been blackened during a scuffle in the night. A long, bleeding cut on her leg had been bandaged with one of Star's skirts. Zeel looked exhausted; and though she had spoken confidently of accepting her fate, she was plainly afraid.

It seemed wrong to trouble her with fate and destiny now, but there was no helping it. Star needed to know truths of her own, and these few hours were all the time left she had to hear it. In any case, she suspected the same matter was weighing on her mother's mind, as well.

"Mum," Star said slowly, "the queen and her… companion spoke of a prophecy. Something about a tree, a branch, and a flower. Something to do with me – something dire. Mum, you must know what it's all about."

As she spoke, Zeel's face darkened, suddenly heavy with regret. She shook her head sadly as she sank back to the cold stone floor.

"I need to know, mum," Star went on when her mother remained silent. "I've already failed at whatever I was supposed to do, so you'd may as well tell me now."

Zeel took her hand in her own, frowning slightly at her child's despair. "You haven't failed, Star. You can't fail at something you didn't know to do. Oh…" She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Shaaran never liked it that we kept it from you, even when you were small. She's never cared for secrets, or having to keep them, you know? Your silly father never changed his mind about it; but over the years, I've slowly changed mine. We should have told you long ago."

Star squeezed her mother's hand, impatient with her mumbling. "Should have told me what?" she pleaded. "Mum, please, just tell me! What is this prophecy?"

"It came to us when you were a baby," Zeel explained slowly, trying to gather her thoughts. "The Lord of Earth gave it to your father in person one winter, when he journeyed up the mountain. He said that it had lain asleep and secret for an age, and that the time had come for it to wake."

It was unlike Zeel to hesitate, but she was so tired, and her heart was so heavy for her destined child. It took her a few deep breaths before she could will herself to speak the words that had chased them for so many years.

" _In golden fields, Leith plants his seed;  
and from his name, there grows a tree.  
From tree there comes a branch of might,  
of hallowed magic, deep and bright.  
And from the branch, there comes a bud  
of Earth and Fire, war and love.  
Then from the bud will come a rose,  
and freedom where so 'ere it goes."_

As she listened, Star numbly understood many things. The prophecy itself was simple enough. Leith, the first Chooser of Rin, had indeed settled in what he hadn't known was his homeland, and made a family. The tree of his bloodline had flourished and grown strong since then, and now had many branches. The branch of the prophecy plainly spoke of Rowan, who was a Titan now, who had married a woman who was like Fire in every way.

And so this bud was their child – a child that was as much Zebak as they were Arin, with a heart for both. A child like no other that had ever been born. A person with just the right skills and talents and might it their blood to do incredible, impossible things.

The Dragon Lord had mockingly commented that her ancestors had been watching and waiting for thousands of years for this person to cross their path. They had known of it all along. Such a person had all the power to destroy their secure hold on their people. And then they had taken the Arin prisoner, brought them to toil right there among their people. So, given this dangerous mistake, what had they done? Issued decrees, passed laws, and made sure that hopeful buds just like Star were clipped and destroyed before they cold bloom. Convinced all the Zebak that such people were monstrous abominations that deserved that fate. They had made it so such a person could never survive in the Zebak lands, the one place in all the world where such a person could be born at all.

Clearly, Fate hadn't liked being toyed with so well. Dragon Lords past must have been relieved to see that a slaved called Leith had escaped them on that destined day so long ago, to be lost to a faraway land where his people would never again meet one of their own. They could never have guessed that only a few hundred years later, Fate would bring a Zebak child right where she needed to be, at just the right time, to turn all their hard work upside down.

"Such prophecies are usually impossible to escape from," her father had told her once. "The best a person can do is to delay it uselessly for a time, because the future often decides for itself what it will be, and no one can tell it otherwise. The future is very like you in that way, my Small Star. The two of you will get along fine someday, I think."

Star had been delighted by that idea then, not understanding that he was trying to prepare her for something. Now, she remembered that moment bitterly and bowed her head in sadness. Her future hadn't agreed well with her at all, in the end. She still wasn't sure what it was she was supposed to have done to bring her mother's people the freedom they longed for, and the prophecy was beyond vague about it. She was almost angry that it was so unhelpful. Almost. It seemed more like another blow she didn't have the energy to take.

"Of course, we had no plans to tell you about it until you were older," Zeel went on as Star pondered it all. "Your aunt thought we should have told you as soon as possible, but we feared you might not understand it right away. And you father, bless him, didn't find it fair for you to spend your whole life worrying over it; as you grew and we came to know you, I agreed with him back then."

"But things have changed so much," Star pleaded. "He hasn't even been here to argue with you about it. Why didn't you tell me?"

Zeel shrugged helplessly. "I've thought about it many times since you came to live at Bhlai House. But you had found your place with the rebellion, and were following your destiny so well without knowing it. I had hoped you might never _need_ to know it. I was going to tell you on your birthday, but… You were so busy, and you already had so much on your mind. It seemed wrong to add the burden of a prophecy to that. I, too, have had to listen to the deep magic in my heart, and obey it when it seemed strange. I've only done my best with that; and, like you, I'm afraid now that it wasn't enough."

She bowed her head in shame and guilt, suddenly refusing to look her daughter in the eye. "I've deceived you, Star. I've deceived you all your life, in a vain effort to protect you from something none of us could escape. It was all pointless, and so much could be different right now if I had just told you the truth. If anyone has failed, it is I. Forgive me, my dearest."

It hurt to see her mother so torn over this, as if the whole mess were her fault, alone. Zeel had struggled all her life with feelings of self-loathing because of who she was, and deep, dark fears of what her presence could mean for the people she loved. She had always secretly blamed herself whenever things had gone wrong, and today was no exception. It hurt especially, when Star felt so sure that _she_ was the one responsible for everything that had gone wrong.

It came to her that the people in the cells around her – trusted friends she had come to love like her own family – almost certainly felt just as she did. There was no telling them that they hadn't failed, either; surely, each of them was reflecting on the previous night, thinking of all the small ways they could have done better and perhaps saved the day. Taking a strange comfort in that, Star snuggled close to her mother and held her tight.

"We can be failures together, then," she decided.

Zeel hummed and nodded slowly. "What does it matter, whose fault it all is?" she answered, holding her close. "It won't change things one way or another. We've only ever done our very best; and you know, with what little we had, we did well. At least we tried, Star. Better to try and fail, than to never try at all. Sara used to say that, you know. I wonder if you would quite remember, but I know that Forley does. Those words have shaped his whole life, and everything he's ever done."

Star just sat still and listened quietly, as her mother went on speaking soothingly about pleasant things and beloved memories. She couldn't think of smiling over any of them, as her mother sometimes did; but it was a nice distraction from all the pains in her heart. And it felt right to be thinking of her homeland and her family now, in these last few hours before she died.

All that was left to do was wait for those hours to run out.

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The sun was rising over Habaharan, and the chaos of the long night was slowly quieting down. The vicious gray monsters that had stormed the city streets had done their work with terrifying speed and efficiency; but as the dawn had crept closer and closer, they had begun to creep back, as though the sun might hold a danger for them. Of the hundreds that had ravaged the city all through the night, only a few remained – the strongest and most cruel of them all, unafraid of the light of day, who would patrol the streets and make sure that its people didn't act on any clever ideas they came up with.

Vivi and Zizi were normally brimming with clever ideas. In their minds, such an idea was just what their city needed most. The rebellion had been crushed in the blink of an eye, and Habaharan needed a miracle now more than it ever had before. Vivi had a few thoughts, herself; but all the people who could have put them into action had been captured, and she couldn't risk being caught sneaking back into the sewers. The whole city was still wailing for its dead. She couldn't bear to force her brother to join them in that.

The brother and sister had slunk from their hiding place under the stairs and back to the hidden rooms of the third floor of Bhlai House. They now found themselves surrounded by a mess, left behind by the monsters who had invaded in the night; but they also had a pile of treasures to guard. The moonstone and ruby magicites and been thrown on the floor in front of the stairs; according to Zizi, the monsters hadn't been able to touch them, and so had left them behind. Seeing no use for another sword, they had left Alanis' lying there, too. All their friends' most treasured weapons had been spared.

More precious than any of those things, Vivi had Evan clutched to her chest, as she paced around the room to keep him calm. The toddler had woken some time ago from a drugged sleep, and Zeel had left them more myrmon to keep him that way, but neither child had wanted to use it. It seemed so awful, in the wake of all that had happened. He wasn't even two years old, yet, and his mother and sister were gone. Probably for good, too. If he wanted to cry with the rest of the city for all he had lost, they agreed that he should be able to.

So far, the baby seemed confused, but mostly quiet about it. Through trial and error, Vivi had found that bouncing him on her hip was the best way to soothe him, and so she had been doing this for what felt like hours. Zizi watched in fascination as she went on pacing around, tirelessly bouncing the child, even though he was getting big and her hip must have started to hurt some time ago. She chatted with him casually, hummed little songs, even laughed a bit whenever he babbled back. Her heart plainly wasn't in it – Zizi could see that – but Evan didn't know any better.

She was weirdly good at this, Zizi decided. He also decided that he shouldn't be surprised; she had taken care of him all his life, and had done a pretty good job. Seeing her taking care of such a small baby warmed his heart a little. Only a little, though. His heart was so heavy, and he was so afraid for his friends, and the days to come were going to be difficult and filled with danger. For a moment, he scrunched his eyes shut and wished with all his might that there was something he could do to make things right. But when he opened them again, no great knowledge or easy solution had come to him.

It hardly surprised or disappointed him. He had always been so small and helpless, and his stammering still held him back. He had never really had the power, the courage, or the strength to do much of anything. Dimly, he wondered why he thought this moment should be any different.

His stomach growled a bit, and he wondered what they would do for food in the coming days. Vivi had already scoured the kitchen for something still good to eat, but the monsters had smashed it all beyond use. She had fretted about having to leave the house to search for food. She worried that she might have to beg for it, maybe even steal or pillage it from unattended stalls in the market. If there were stalls left there at all. It was hardly like Vivi to fret about anything, let alone about stealing; it only went to prove how bad things really were.

Zizi glanced over his shoulder, where his sister's satchel had been carelessly tossed by the fireplace. His mind wandered back to the previous evening, when she had taken a chunk of cake with her on an adventure. His stomach growled again as he wondered if any of that cake was left in her bag. Vivi's back was turned, and so she didn't see as her brother scrambled over to her bag and looked inside.

There was no sign of that cake, or any kind of food – but Zizi found something even better. A wondrous crown of silver and gold and precious stones was nestled inside, ethereal against the rough cloth of the bag. Zizi's red eyes went wide at the sight. It was the diadem of the Dragon Lords – the treasure that Vivi had been plotting for months to steal from under the queen's nose.

The heist of a lifetime, she had said. Against all odds, she had succeeded; but in the hours since she had returned, Zizi and Evan had become far more important to her. There had been so much to see to and think of, her own grand adventured hadn't mattered to her anymore. And so she hadn't found the time or presence of mind to tell him that she had it at all.

Zizi forgot his hunger, his heartache, his fears for his city and the days to come. The diadem was the most glorious thing he had ever seen. Or, at least, the polished black stone in its center was. The gems and precious metals could have been done away with, really; beside the black stone, they seemed cheap and out of place, like when Vivi wore all the pieces of her collection over her tattered clothes. The stone enchanted and delighted him as soon as he saw it. For the first time in days, he really smiled. He couldn't help himself.

As he gazed at the stone, he could have sworn he heard a voice. A nice voice, gentle and loving as it was firm and powerful. His heart filled with longing at the sound of it, but also with comfort. Anyone else would have been frightened by its sudden presence in their minds; but Zizi was overjoyed to hear such a wonderful voice, speaking directly to him, calling him by name, and by names he hadn't even known were his.

 _Zizi… Flame Hart… Child of the light… Zizi…_

Without thinking very much about it, Zizi reached into the bag, taking the diadem in his small hands and lifting it out. It was heavier than he had expected, but he held it up to get a better look. Spikes of silver stuck up from the top like spines, and from the bottom like fangs. It looked difficult and uncomfortable to have to wear. Nonetheless, he felt an unexplainable urge to try it on, just to see how impossible it was. Indeed, the thing was too big for his head. With some careful wiggling, he might have been able to wear it around his neck, though the thought of those sharp points biting into his neck and shoulders was unpleasant.

Again, the action took next to no thought. It was as if he were obeying a deep, long forgotten instinct. He lifted the diadem a little higher and, being careful of the spikes, slowly lowered it onto his head.

As he was doing this, Vivi turned around and saw him too late. She called out to him to beware, to put the diadem down before he hurt himself; but the voice was louder and louder in his mind, nearly drowning hers out. Before either of them could stop what was happening, Zizi had put the diadem on his own head, and the great black stone that was the source of his people's magic slid between his eyes.

It felt as though a key had been turned in his mind and unlocked it to a new world. A realm of light and sound and vibrating power. He felt as though he could suddenly see through time and space, to places he could never had thought of on his own. There was a jarring sensation, as though his mind was moving across this plain at enormous speed, searching for something he didn't even know he was looking for.

His consciousness settled as suddenly as it had taken off, and now there were new voices around him. Three voices, like storm winds, thrashing waves, and quaking earth, exclaiming in their own ways at his arrival. And yet, they sounded… Human.

" _What in blue blazes?"_

" _Who is this? What are you doing here?"_

" _How have you come into our minds? Who are you?"_

" _Wait. Brothers, wait! Don't you feel it?"_

" _Oh… Yes… Yes, I do! It is a feeling of Fire! It has been so long, I did not quite…"_

" _Such a small flame… But it is enough that it is here at all."_

Zizi had never heard these voices before, but somewhere deep inside, he knew them. Understanding filled him. Somehow, he had come into a forbidden place, where mere mortals were not supposed to be. He felt his whole being trembling in that storm of confusion, like the feeble, flickering light of a lone candle.

By way of deep magic, he was among the Titans of Water, Earth, and Air.


	3. Chapter 2: The Plan

BOO! I'm home! 8D

This chapter is slightly shorter than most, but I'm dumping a lot on you just now. PJ has seen this coming for a while, and I'm still a little too thrilled about that.

Anyway, in case you were wondering what's going on in Rin, you'll find out shortly. We'll be there for a little minute. Is it weird that Star and Co. aren't even in the first chunk of this story? Oh well, it's not like they're doing anything interesting. All their parents, on the other hand… :P

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 _Chapter 2: The Plan_

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As the voices of the faraway Titans went on exclaiming in joy and confusion over his sudden presence, Zizi felt strange new sensations filling him. His consciousness went on quaking in shock, but he felt strangely as though he had become a living flame. It burned without hurting, and the tiny spark he had become popped and flickered with every gasping breath he took. He couldn't believe that his mind had joined with those of the Titans. He had no idea how it had happened.

But it was exactly the kind of miracle he had wished for. And it came to him with astonishing clarity that one of them was the real life Rowan of Rin. The hero of recent legend. Star's own father. The feeling of fire that he was leapt with hope, and he found his voice.

" _Help – please – you have to – you've got to help us!"_ he squeaked in his mind as loudly as he could. He could feel his firry presence flaring, tongues of flame spreading around him, desperate to be heard. _"The rebellion is – and the city – the gray monsters – they're everywhere! They broke everything! They took them away! You have to – please! You have to help us!"_

The three voices grew silent, listening to his frenzied pleas, and perhaps in surprise to hear their new companion stuttering so pathetically. Zizi had never felt quite so small, and he was terrified in that silence that the Titans found it all unworthy of being heard. He felt himself sobbing like the frightened child he was, the flames flaring in place of tears.

A sense of comfort and calm came over him, as though an arm had wrapped itself around his shoulder. Or perhaps a sun-warmed vine or tree branch. He couldn't explain why, but it felt like Earth and all it was. With a start, he realized that it was the presence of the Earth Titan.

Somehow, in this otherworldly place, Rowan of Rin was actually touching him. He wasn't there, and yet… He was there. As much as the Titans of Water and Air were beside him, as water lapping his feet and gentle wind on his face. They were with him, making real contact with him, and comforting him in his fear.

" _I know your face,"_ came the sound of rustling leaves, along with a voice. Rowan's voice, marveling, astonished.

" _As do I,"_ agreed a voice like crashing waves. The voice of the Keeper of the Crystal. _"You are Zizi! You traveled with Iris of Fisk, some time ago! I would know those eyes anywhere."_

" _Ah, yes, I remember, too,"_ agreed the voice of Mithren, whistling in his ear. _"You certainly whipped the little minnow into shape, that night, and sent her off all the better. We were impressed, when we learned of it. But how in all the heavens have you come here?"_

Zizi shook his head at how they knew him, and how they hadn't once answered his cries for help. The flames leapt again, this time with impatience.

" _But – but you're not – you're not listening!"_ he nearly yelled at them. _"We need – we need help! The city is – Habaharan is – its on fire! The people are – they're dying! We need – we need your help! You have to do something!"_

" _Yes, yes, we know,"_ Mithren's voice whispered again. _"We have felt it, all the way across the sea. The cosmos cries out with your people, for justice, and perhaps vengeance. We have sat awake this long night, trying to think of a way we can be of help to you. But the land, the sea, and now the Lord of Shadows, himself, stand in our way."_

The Titans grew sorrowful at this. Zizi felt the change in their moods – the whispering wind fell silent, the tide seemed to withdraw, and the strength of the earth around his shoulders faded as though gripped by frost. They were all dismayed; but since Rowan, himself, was touching him, Zizi could feel his heartbreak as surely as he felt his own.

Then the feeling of Earth regained some of its strength, shook itself, and seemed to meld right into him. It felt practical and focused, as the Titan had often been in his tales when he faced problems.

" _However you have come here, and whatever separates us, you are here now, Zizi of Habaharan. You have been sent to us more than we have been sent to you, I think. Please, tell us what has happened in your city. What have you seen? What have you heard? Anything you know could be of use to us now. We are listening."_

Zizi hesitated. He hadn't left Bhlai House once since the disaster had struck, and felt that he hadn't seen anything of use at all. Also, he knew that this Titan was silently asking about his wife, daughter, and sister. Zizi had no good news to share with him. He knew that he could only answer him with the truth, and the truth was still too painful to speak out loud.

He wondered if he should mention Evan at all, and immediately decided against it.

He felt he had hesitated for too long, trying to pull himself together and choose the right words and remember what little he knew properly. He was wasting precious time, and making a fool of himself in front of the most powerful people on earth. He felt anxiety flare in his heart, as the three Titans waited patiently on him.

" _I believe I can be of some use here,"_ said the Keeper, after it seemed like an eternity had passed. Without warning, the sensation of a cold, tingling wave swept over Zizi. It was a soothing sensation; but at the same time, he could feel it probing his mind. Searching for his memories of the last few hours. When the wave washed away, he knew it had pulled that knowledge back with it, and had shared it at once with the others.

They had seen what he had seen, through the tiny gap in his hiding place, as the gray monsters had raided Bhlai House, taken his family prisoner, and destroyed the house. They had heard everything those monsters had said to each other, never guessing for a second that someone of consequence had overheard them. Surely, those memories had explained it all better than Zizi ever could have on his own.

He decided at once that magic was the best thing in the world.

" _This is substantially bad,"_ Mithren commented needlessly. His voice was like a small whirlwind, threatening to build to a cyclone. He knew what had happened to his adopted sister, and where she had been taken, and he was outraged. What was more, he was afraid for her, and helpless to help her, as he often seemed to be in the tales. Zizi felt deeply for him. He sometimes felt the same about his own sister.

" _There is something to be taken from this, though,"_ came Rowan's voice, still focused and amazingly even. Zizi could feel the tendrils of vines creeping, growing deep, as he thought of it all and tried to form a plan. _"We know where most of them are, now. They've been taken to the Central Dungeon. Zizi, you have been there before. You know where it is."_

"… _.Yes…"_

" _Do you know of anybody who could breach the place? Your Crusaders did it once. Can it be done again?"_

" _Oh, no!"_ Zizi squeaked again. _"It was – they all said it was impossible – impossible! They had to be very – they were sneaky. They had the squad to – to help them – they couldn't have – not alone. The squad is all – they're gone, too. And the people are all – hiding. Scared. The gray monsters are everywhere – watching. We can't… We can't…"_

" _I understand,"_ Rowan agreed, though his regret was clear as those creeping tendrils ceased their creeping. _"The danger is too great, now, and all the city's warriors have been captured. It would take a special band of people, indeed."_

Hating to have disappointed him, Zizi felt a tongue of his own flame reach out and grab onto the vine, as if reaching for the Titan's hand. He hoped too late that he hadn't hurt him, but the heavy feeling around his arm didn't jerk away or cry out in pain. Zizi was glad of that. He liked to think that he had a good idea to share.

" _I know some – some special people. Down in the – under the city, there's – I know pirates, and warriors, and some – some are just sneaky. But they're all – they're very nice. They would help."_

" _Can you get to them easily?"_ asked the Keeper. _"They are all in the sewers, we know; but the pirate Keids and his men are beneath a different part of the city, far away from where you are now. Is it safe for you to travel so far just now?"_

Zizi thought about it for a second, and then shook his head, his flame shrinking sadly. _"No. The monsters are still – there's too many. That wasn't such a – that was dumb. I'm sorry."_

" _No, my young friend, it most certainly was not dumb,"_ came Mithren's breezy voice. _"It was a very good idea. Just because you can't reach all those brave, loud men and women right now doesn't mean you never will again. They can still help us."_

" _Perhaps, but how long will that take?"_ Rowan insisted, his impatience growing as quickly as angry, thorny weeds. _"This is no longer just about the people_ we _love – everyone in that city needs help right now. Our little brother needs our help. We_ must _find a way to get there. Soon. I feel this in my heart, don't you?"_

The other two hummed over this in their own ways. Zizi could almost see them in his mind, scratching their heads, rubbing their chins, stroking a wondrous crystal, as he had always supposed they might. What exactly were they thinking so hard about? What had Rowan meant about a little brother? Did they know of Evan, after all?

" _I suppose I do feel it, after all,"_ Mithren answered slowly. _"This unyielding, urgent need to travel east, though there is plainly no way for us to do this. Rowan, you and I are landlocked, just now; it would take days for us to reach the coast."_

" _A week's time, to be more precise,"_ the Keeper chimed in. _"And after that, another few day's sailing, in a boat you cannot captain, if my people are willing to spare you a boat at all. You could try asking Perlain, once again; you could even ask Iris, if you really wanted to. Neither would be willing or able to help you this time, though."_

Zizi gasped in alarm. _"Not even Perlain? But he's so – he's so good!"_

The Keeper laughed softly at this. _"To be sure, he is. He is a man of many talents, and a good friend. He would lend his help gladly, if only it made any sense for him to do so. None of his skills will be of use on another journey to your city. He will be grieved, I think, when he learns of it."_

" _Iris would help us in a heartbeat without thinking twice,"_ Mithren added, _"but her boat was destroyed when she sailed for the city in the middle of a storm. It was a luxurious present from her parents, who have learned their lesson about spoiling their daughter. She won't have another boat to lend us any time soon. And it still doesn't solve the problem of sneakily getting a band of people to the city in less than a week."_

The thorny weeds that Rowan had become seemed to grow spinier, all at once, as his frustration and fear grew and grew. _"The only way to do that is to fly. A Traveler forerunner can make the journey in only a few hours' time, but that flight has to end at the coast."_

" _Agreed,"_ Mithren answered right away. _"I remember. I can summon the winds of the plains with ease, but even slightly off the coast is beyond my reach. And the winds are too wild, even for a strong forerunner to make the whole journey across the sea. I've only tried it once, brothers, in a similar moment of need. I can tell you now, it will do us no good today."_

There was a long, heavy pause. Even Zizi knew what they were all thinking. He could feel the same thought pulsing temptingly between them, almost solid and strong enough to touch. He wished he had the nerve to say it; but to do so seemed callous, hurtful, and unnecessary.

It was the Keeper who ended that silence, by finally commenting in an odd tone, _"Unos can do it…"_

" _Well, Unos is not here,"_ Rowan snapped back. _"I've thought of it a thousand times! She is gone, as surely as my family is gone, and there is nothing to be done about it! What do you want me to say, Doss? What do you want me to say?"_

Zizi shrank away in fright, back to the tiny, flickering candle flame he had been before. He had always feared and hated to see Star when she lost her temper; now he could see where she had gotten it from in the first place, and he didn't like it. It was terrible to see someone he knew as a courageous, magical hero so bitter and angry. Someone he had waited such a long time to meet, and should have been able to count on, only find that he was just as helpless and afraid as anyone else.

He dared to look up from his own fear, and found that the other two Titans had shrunk away from their brother, as well. There was deathly silence between them. No stirring of wind. No rippling waves. No rustle of leaves. The feeble crackling of Zizi's flame seemed obnoxious and out of place in that silence, but he found that he couldn't make himself any smaller or quieter. It was awkward, but also strangely comforting to not be the only one frightened by the Earth Titan's darkening mood. It seemed that his whole presence had become a tick patch of thistles and briars.

It was an awful lot of thorns. Perhaps one thorn for every day that had passed since his life had changed so badly. Zizi didn't blame the other Titans for wanting to get as far away from their brother as they could. At the same time, his own small heart hurt for the Titan who had lost so much, and now so much more.

Slowly, cautiously, the presence of the Keeper reached toward his angry brother like a cool, gentle stream. Those thorns remained firmly in place, defensive and unwilling to look right at him. They couldn't stop him from speaking, however.

" _Forgive me, Rowan. I had feared you might say such things, but you did not hear me properly. I said, Unos_ can _do it. I believe I have a solution for you."_

The thorns began to recede as suddenly as they had shot forth. Something shifted quietly, as a seed sprouting in the earth – a thrill of desperate hope, in a heart that was terrified to trust it.

"… _I'm listening."_

" _Something has been stirring just beyond my sight for some time,"_ the Keeper explained, still wary of the thorns, but growing excited. _"I thought before that it was simply the evil filling the land beyond the sea; but it has drawn nearer and nearer, all through the night. Only just now has it come close enough to see clearly, and it is the answer to all our prayers."_

There was an unmistakable grin in the Keeper's voice as he said, _"Rowan… It is Unos. She is coming back! Only an hour or two from now, she will land in your village! And there is a purpose about her – I can feel it. She is coming to collect you, to take you exactly where you mean to go, as soon as possible."_

The Earth Titan was stunned. The others could feel it, as they cried out with joy in his silence. Zizi was relieved, too. He had wondered in the night what had become of the grach his family oved so much; he had wondered if they were okay, and if he would ever see them again. Unos, at least, had escaped; and she seemed to have a plan, or an idea for a plan in her animal mind. Perhaps she was just fleeing the chaos of the city and running for her life to the only other safe place she knew; but the Keeper seemed to think that she was running not for shelter, but for help.

Finally, Rowan found his voice again, speaking quickly and frankly.

" _I have to go. I have to gather the others and make them ready for an adventure. Doss, Mithren, stay with our new little brother and explain things to him; I would stay and help, but we haven't much time. Help him think of the rest of our plan. Use all your brilliant heads. I'll be back shortly."_

As his presence began to fade away from them, it turned to the Keeper and spoke to him directly.

" _Please, forgive me. I shouldn't have yelled at you."_

The Keeper shrugged, like a wave on the shore. _"I knew that you would, but it was a risk I was willing to take. The news was good in the end, was it not? There is nothing to forgive, my old friend. Now go – go!"_

The Earth Titan didn't really need to be told. He vanished at once, off to do his own part in all this mess. Zizi was left wondering between the Titans of Water and Air. Wondering at all that had just happened, and at if it was right for him to still be in this sacred place, and how he was to leave it.

" _I need to – I should go,"_ he said as politely as he could. _"My big sis will be – she'll be worried sick if I'm not – I've been gone a long time."_

" _You've barely been here for ten minutes,"_ Mithren insisted, a breeze wrapping around the boy where the Earth Titan's presence had been before. It seemed that his flickering flame was being drawn deeper into the shimmering void, walking beside them. _"You only just arrived, and we still have much to discuss. So much… Now that practical Rowan is gone, I will say it again – how can this be? How has this boy come here, when there is already a Fire Titan? It makes no sense!"_

" _Yes, it does, and you know it,"_ said the Keeper. _"In fact, it makes good and perfect sense, though it is truly awful. Rowan has suspected it for a long time; he had no time to speak of it now because this boy has shown him the truth. He could not be here, otherwise."_

Zizi flickered between them, not understanding what they were babbling about, and increasingly uncomfortable. _"What truth? What is it? What's wrong?"_ he asked, fearing that he would not like the answer.

The two Titans seemed to peer at each other nervously, each daring the other to answer the boy, because neither really knew how to. It was the Keeper who finally answered him, slowly and carefully choosing his words.

" _Zizi, you do not know this, but something truly remarkable has just happened because of you. You see… There has not been a Fire Titan in a very, very long time. We have been deceived, all these long years."_

Zizi blinked at him, shocked and confused. _"But the queen is – she's the – "_

" _The Dragon Lord, and queen of the Zebak, yes. She has a great many other titles, as well; but when she calls herself a Titan, she is lying in the worst way. A true Titan serves the deep magic of this world, and the Dragons from which it comes. Zadina, and all those before her, have only ever served the shadow which broods in the south. Their master has let them borrow his own dark power, to use in place of the light. Blinded by greed, they chose to serve him, rather than their Hallowed Father. They cast off the deep magic, set it aside."_

" _It was a dirty trick,"_ added Mithren. _"The terrors they have worked for their master are beyond count. We can see that, now. Even the talisman of their people is sealed away in metal and stone, forced into a deep slumber, and fading away with disuse. And now, by some trick of destiny…_ You _have come to have it. After all this time… Do you understand what we are trying to say to you?"_

Zizi shook his head, his flame crackling with fear. He thought he knew what they were saying. In his heart, he knew it already. But he didn't like it, and the idea filled him with dread.

" _I – I – I don't want to be a Titan,"_ he found himself crying out. _"I'm just – I'm just little, and – and I don't – I still stutter when I – all the time! I'm not big, or – or strong, or smart, or – or anything! I'm not a Titan, I'm just… Me."_

The Titans drew closer to him, as if holding his hand and hugging him, comforting him. The Keeper was speaking again, kindly and with great remembrance.

" _Do you suppose I was so impressive, when this destiny found me?"_ he asked. _"You know my story, Zizi, I know that you do. I was not chosen for my own strength or wisdom, or anything else. No Titan ever is. We are chosen for what is in our hearts. A true Titan longs for the light – for peace, and truth, and justice and joy for all people. We are willing to fight for it, no matter the cost. Whenever we are needed, the deep magic of our world knows where to find us. And of all the folk in your lands, it found what it needed in you."_

" _That is an exciting thought,"_ said Mithren. _"Comforting, too, I think. Children have a wonderful sort of wisdom, and a way of knowing exactly what should be done. This particular child has a love for all his people, too – big and small, rich and poor, slave and free. And he is far more stubborn than he likes to think. He says he is so small, and yet here he remains, making himself heard, already quite at home, it seems. You are already a fine Titan of Fire, Zizi, and you are far from alone. We are your brothers, now, and we will help you in any way we can."_

He was still trembling and unsure how all this had happened, but Zizi decided that he could trust in that. It was strange how suddenly everything had changed. It was just as strange that he was somehow content with it. Apparently, he was a Titan, now. If that was what it took to save his city and his people, then it was worth it.

Which, he realized, was exactly what the Keeper had been talking about. Maybe he could be a good Titan, after all.

"… _Okay,"_ he said as firmly as he could. _"What do I have to do?"_

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Rowan was running, for what felt like his life. He couldn't remember how many times he had run like this in his life; he just knew that he had done it often, as a boy. There had been little need for it in a long time. Today, he was sure he had never had a more important reason to run, to hurry, to be ready as fast as humanly possible.

After all this time, he was finally allowed to plan a rescue mission. He had always been good at those. It was something he could do quickly and easily, with few resources. It was also something he had learned the hard way, he could not hope to do alone. And so, as he ran toward the orchard, he was already deciding who he would ask to join him on one last adventure.

His mind was made up by the time he dashed through the trees, hollering for his step-father. His list of companions was short, and very nearly set in stone. He couldn't imagine why any one of them would turn him down. He had travelled with each of them before, in some way or another. They made an excellent team, in his mind. A wide variety of talents and skills and ideas, so much more powerful when put together.

He didn't have to search for long. Strong John appeared from the rows of his trees, looking surprised and a little amused to see the younger man so frantic. He even smiled a bit, though a grief he had grown used to was still heavy in his face.

"Well, what's all this?" he teased. "It's a bit early to be in such a rush, don't you think?"

Rowan didn't have time for John's teasing on a normal day. He rolled his eyes and, panting from the run, grabbed the man by the wrist and began pulling him toward the dirt road that led into the village.

"You have to come with me," he said simply. "You have to come with me right now, and ask no questions."

"Come with you, where?" John demanded anyway, glancing back at the work he was being hauled away from.

"To the bakery, for now. I've a lot to say to a lot of people, and I only plan to say it once."


	4. Chapter 3: The Heroes

Table for Rowan, party of 7? Lol, I crack myself up. :P

I'm sure you've all been wondering how, exactly, all our brokenhearted parents have been doing, yes? They will seem lively now; but I promise, they've been terribly depressed and not at all themselves these last few years. I won't touch on that much today. Mostly, I'll just leave you sassy Annad being sassy. You're welcome.

I'll also leave you a POV I've never used before, and a mysterious new character to go with it, as well as cutting off in the middle of a scene, so that will all be interesting.

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 _Chapter 3: The Heroes_

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The sun had just risen. The Dragon Finlair, Lord of Earth, had greeted the new day with a mighty roar that sounded through the hills and valleys of his place. So it had been every morning in the Arin Lands for as long as the land could remember. It could have been a regular start to an ordinary day.

But the people of Rin knew, somehow, that this day was not like most. Their busiest bakery had opened with the dawn, only to close abruptly five minutes later without explanation or apology. The carpentry, usually alive by now with hammers and saws and the wailing of infants, was awfully still. And some had begun to notice with a sense of unease that their chieftain and their Titan hadn't come around to look in on their friends.

All their usual heroes were missing suddenly. Especially those who had been to the dreaded Zebak Lands and survived. The people who noticed this did their best not to worry; such anxiety was unbecoming of Rinfolk, no matter how things had changed. Still, they wondered at where those six heroes had all gone at the same time, without even saying goodbye or telling a soul where they were going.

That was because there had been little time for long goodbyes or detailed explanations. Rowan had gathered his closest friends and explained what had happened as quickly and simply as he could. They had all agreed at once what had to be done, and that time was frightfully short. They had each taken time to arm themselves, stuff a few useful items in their pockets, and promise their families that they would return. Now, they were standing together in Rowan's backyard, watching a dark, familiar shape hurtling towards them through the brightening sky.

"My heavens, that was fast," Allun commented, shielding his eyes to peer at the shape in the sky. "I had forgotten how fast she can fly. It's been such a long time…"

"The winds are with her this morning," Rowan answered him. "Mithren has made sure of it, ever since she came into his territory. I was given an hour, and she is slightly early – not that there is a problem with that."

Beside him, Marlie hummed thoughtfully and gripped the bow slung over her shoulder. "I remember standing on that hill, with an arrow to this bow, seeing her for the first time and preparing to shoot her down. Of all the ways I expected you people to return, Unos was not one of them."

Rowan glanced sideways at her. Her voice was even, and her gaze was locked impatiently on Unos, perhaps wishing that the beast would land faster. But there was anger, fear, and terrible pain in her eyes, bubbling to the surface after being forced away for two long years. She was only speaking of old memories because that part of the past had ended with triumph and happiness that couldn't be erased. It was something solid and good, to distract from the pain she felt. It was still difficult to see her this way, when she had always been so bold and defiant.

After a long moment of silence, Norriss cleared his throat in his serious way. "We need to think more about our hastily crafted plan, while we still have a moment. It won't be easy, once we are in the air."

"Our plans are always hastily crafted," his sister pointed out. "We never get a clear answer – we've always had to figure it out, one step at a time. I believe we will have to do so again."

The others shook their heads and grumbled in annoyance, unhappy to relive those experiences.

"I have to agree with Shaaran," Rowan said, hating to crush their hopes. "Until a day or two ago, we could have at least guessed at what we might be walking into. Now, we just won't know until we get there. With luck, the new Titan will keep speaking to us, wherever he is, and send us news of what to expect in the city."

"What if he does not?" John asked slowly. "He is only a child, and knows nothing of what's been thrust upon him. He may not be able to do it."

Rowan sighed and squared his shoulders. He had thought of this, too, but had accepted it. There was little he could do about that from so far away.

"Then we will just have to trust that Fate will provide for us," he decided as boldly as he could.

"But will it?"

Rowan peered up curiously at the older man. "Hasn't it always?"

At that, John turned away and stared at the ground, his face still full of doubts and concerns. Rowan couldn't say he blamed his step-father. He had a long list of doubts, himself; but there was far too little time to try to peek around those distant corners. They didn't even have a riddle or a vision to go by. He didn't even have his teacher to give him advice. All any of them could do was take the first few steps before them, and worry about the next steps later.

Star, at least, had the Earth Sigil, he reasoned. With all the trouble she was in, she needed its sight and guidance more than he did. This idea comforted his troubled heart, and he allowed himself a faint smile over it. Perhaps she would have used it to overrun her captors and break free on her own, before he even got there. Perhaps they would arrive in Habaharan to find that Earthen magic had helped the rebels back on their feet, and that a legendary rescue was no longer needed.

Against servants of the Shadow Lord, that seemed unlikely; but it was a nice thought. As with Marlie and her memories, the idea gave him hope, and a distraction from all his anxieties. He had so many…

The sound of running footsteps tore their attention from the horizon. Like a burst of light, Annad came crashing through the backdoor, dressed for a journey, with her own father's longsword strapped to her belt.

"Oh, excellent," she said brightly. "I was afraid I would miss you."

In spite of everything, Rowan felt his eye twitch. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Coming with you, of course," she said smartly, marching to stand with them.

"Where are the twins?" Norriss blurted out when she ignored their shock.

"They're safe with my mother, dear. They're barley walking, yet, so I can't imagine they'll give her much trouble."

She was being so tart, all at once. Aside from an adventure, she was plainly ready to fight for her place in this party. Her determination had dismayed the rest of them; not because they doubted her, but because her eagerness to go back to that dreaded place worried and baffled them.

And Rowan couldn't help speaking this for all of them.

"Several of us nearly died, trying to get you back," he pointed out, his voice rising with exasperation. "Are you really going to do this to us? Haven't we already lost enough?"

Annad turned and pinned him with a glare like ice, her blue eyes flashing angrily. She looked weirdly like their father, and it made his stomach lurch a bit.

"You're not the only one who's lost a sister," she snapped. "Or a friend, or a niece. They're all my family, too. I have as much right to be here as any of you do. Besides, you've helped me so many times – let me be of help to you, for once."

Without waiting for him to argue, she marched with purpose out of the yard and toward the open fields, where Unos had finally landed a little way off. Then she stopped and looked over her shoulder at her family with a defiant smirk.

"Otherwise, consider this: just look at the mere six of you, when you are _clearly_ supposed to be seven. And here I am," she commented, bowing graciously before continuing on her way, leaving the rest to think it over and suddenly feel very sheepish.

"Well, she's not wrong," Shaaran said slowly, as much to herself as to any of her companions. As she strode off after the younger, taller woman, she went on, "I, for one, wouldn't mind her company. Having an extra sword in our favor makes me feel much safer."

It was difficult to argue with that. Rowan still wanted to, if only for fear for the only sister he had left; but Allun and Marlie had already walked off, shrugging between themselves and looking unsurprised. John was following them in silence, clearly annoyed and even more anxious than before, but unwilling to say so out loud. Even Norriss, his brother-in-law, seemed to have accepted this change in plan.

"I've learned to pick and choose my battles," he explained, feeling Rowan's curious stare on him. "We may be married now, but there are simply some things I can't command her to do; staying behind to wait and hope for our return is one of them. In any case, she is right about everything."

"Yes, I know," Rowan grumbled. "I just wish she didn't have to be so smug about it. I thought I was the one with the plan."

Norriss laughed and playfully shoved him out of the yard. "You've gotten too used to being the leader. You need a reminder of where you've come from. Now, let's catch up with the others. Something seems to be happening over there."

Indeed, something was happening. Unos had landed with something alive and wriggling in her mouth. From a distance, it had appeared to be a large fish, or perhaps a young sea serpent; a bite to eat she had snatched in haste from the sea as she had flown in the night. Now she had dropped it on the ground to show off to her family – only for it to hiss and peep with delight at the touch of soft grass, and spread its small wings in the cool morning air.

The whole party stared in complete surprise at the tiny creature, enchanted in spite of all that lay before them. The baby grach peered up at each of them, looking amazed at the sight of so many loving strangers. Then it chirped happily and slithered toward Allun, tumbling around his feet and nuzzling his leg, as though she knew him and was glad to see him.

Never one to mind attention, he knelt to scoop the baby into his arms. "Well, now, who is this?" he asked, mostly to Unos, as if she could answer him. "Is this yours? You've been a busy lady, my old friend. The little rascal knows my face, I think."

At the same time, by way of deep magic, Rowan could hear Unos chiding her child in words he understood.

" _No, my Fighter Spirit, calm yourself. It is not our Fox Kith – this is Wind Heart, who is his sire. He is here to help us, as I knew he would be. Now come away with me, my dear. I must find Night's Gift, so that I might leave you in his safe keeping while I am away."_

So, Allun had guessed right, as he usually did. The baby thought he was Forley, who she plainly knew and loved. It seemed disappointed to be told otherwise, and sulkily obeyed its mother's command. Once her child was held safe in her jaws again, Unos plodded to Rowan and thrust her great head into his arms, thrilled to see him again.

" _You knew that I was coming,"_ she noticed. _"I thought you might. Thank goodness. I need your help, Red One."_

" _And I need yours, Only One,"_ he agreed silently. _"Please, tell me what you've seen."_

Unos growled in the back of her throat. _"I have seen very little. I know that Small Star is in grave danger, and that my mate has perhaps gone to his death, and that the Safe Place is no longer safe. It is filled with fire and smoke, and a smell of evil, and gray men who are not men. Something foul has come there. I did not stay to see what it was – not when my only young needed shelter. My mate and I agreed on this, and so I came as quickly as I could."_

The pup squirmed impatiently, and Unos shook it gently until it calmed down again. _"My mate and I call her Fighter Spirit. Small Star and Lion Man call her Rebel. You may call her so, too, if you wish."_

"Rebel," Rowan repeated out loud, and the pup raised her head at the sound of her name. He scratched behind her delicate spines and said, "I suppose it stands to reason. It suits her."

" _Good,"_ Unos said crisply. _"Now that you have seen my young, I must leave her safely with Night's Gift, so that we may go with all speed. Where is he?"_

" _Treasure is where he always is,"_ Rowan told her, glancing off toward the fields. The whole herd of bukshah had been still and anxious ever since Unos had appeared, straining to see the creature they had grown used to and missed. Their one black member stood out among them, bigger, stronger, and most gentle of all, looking with special interest for his old friend.

" _Yes, that was a strange thing to ask,"_ Unos answered, stalking away toward the herd. _"Where else should he be? He is my good friend, and he will look after my Fighter Spirit while I am away. I am afraid she is not quite old enough for us to part like this, but it must be done. She is strong and brave, like her sire. She will get along well here, until I return for her."_

As if their success had already been decided on. It was nice that she was speaking so surely of the future, because Rowan knew that the people around him had many doubts about it. He knew it seemed impossible that their sudden appearance, now of all times, could make much of a difference – let alone against the evil he had described to them. He knew that finding their family in all that chaos seemed a daunting challenge, and that being unable to plan for it was frustrating.

And he knew that not all of them were quite ready to fight for all the Zebak, rather than just the ones who mattered to them personally. As far as some of his friends were concerned, the mission was to find their family, free them, and then escape. Rowan already knew that he couldn't do this. He felt that Zeel and Star wouldn't be persuaded to do this, either, after so much time spent among their own people. In fact, knowing what little he did, he was sure that Alanis, Forley, and Leah wouldn't stand for abandoning their friends, no matter what their parents told them to do.

With no real plan in place to start with, he wondered how wise it was to point this out to his companions. It would only cause problems later, he was sure. But it would also cause problems now, he realized. An idea flashed through his mind of John and Norriss, their nerves already stretched thin, coming to blows over it. It wasn't a vision, but he knew in his heart that it was very likely to pass if he mentioned it.

So he took a deep breath and pushed that problem aside for later. He thought of his new Hallowed brother, hiding for his life somewhere in Habaharan, waiting for him come as he had promised. That had to be the goal for now.

 _Hold on, Zizi,_ he thought with all his might. _We're on our way. I'm coming for you. I'll find you. I promise._

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As they soared over the silver sea, flashing like liquid metal below them, a terrible thought crossed Shaaran's mind. Not about their hastily crafted mission, just about her family, and which of them had gathered for adventure yet again. Now that she thought of it, they had never travelled together for any good reason. It seemed so unfair, when they only wanted the best for their people. When all they truly wanted was to live their lives in peace.

It had seemed for a long time that they could finally have that wish. Rin had seemed peaceful, indeed, for 18 quiet years. No monsters, no invasions, not even a real cause to go near the mountain had happened in all that time. And then the tragedy had struck and snatched that peace away again. If Shaaran was perfectly honest with herself, she had been waiting for it all those years, unable to believe that her family could be so destined, only to suddenly be left alone forever. It had seemed too good to be true; and an old friend from her childhood had warned her once that such things are usually just that – entirely too good to be real, or even that simple.

A feeling of fondness mixed with the sadness in her heart. Shaaran hadn't seen the woman Zinobia since she had been a girl. But she had been a friend of her grandfather's, even though she had been a Central Control guard, and had always looked after them. She wondered, not for the first time, how her old guardian was doing and what her life looked like now. With a thrill of dread, she prayed that Zinobia had somehow survived the night.

In only a short time, a stretch of land appeared on the horizon. The journey had taken less than an hour, and Shaaran was impossibly relieved that this part of it was almost over. As that land came into view, however, she became puzzled. It was all just empty beaches, far as the eye could see, with the dry, red clay of the wilderness stretching bleakly beyond.

In the distance, they could already see the city of Habaharan sitting in the middle of the desert like a shimmering steel block. Its peaks and spires rose high into the sky over the wall – as did thick columns of smoke and the angry glow of fire.

Unos landed on a deserted beach, seemingly without being asked to, and her riders all stumbled wearily to the sand. As they gazed around at their new surroundings, Shaaran could tell they were just as confused as she was. All except Rowan, who mostly appeared to be full of purpose.

And it didn't take the others long to figure out who had brought them there, either.

"Rowan," Allun said in a dry tone, "be a friend and remind me why we've come back here, instead of to the port?"

Rowan looked at him over his shoulder, attempting pathetically to look innocent. "I hardly think this is the exact same beach as before. One is as good as any other, really," he said, without answering the question.

"But the port is only an hour's walk away from the city gates," Norriss insisted, pointing off toward the south. "A matter of minutes, if we fly. If we go this way, it's a long flight in the blistering heat, and we will have to sneak in, somehow. You've done this before – you should know this."

"I do know this, but there is a problem with that," Rowan answered evenly, though he sounded annoyed, suddenly. "We are expected. The port is swarming with guards, and they appear to be looking west for something."

"How do you know this?" his sister asked, curious as always. "Did you see it?"

"No, Zizi did," he said, smiling faintly. "He has no experience with his newfound power, but he is trying. Visions of what is happening around the city keep coming to him in flashes he can't control. He's shared all he's seen with the rest of us for a while, now."

"So, there is our first puzzle," Marlie said thoughtfully. "To go through the wilderness will take some time and discomfort, but it will be safe as long as we stay in the air. To go through the port would take a few minutes, if only we can survive that long. It's a hard choice…"

"There is no choice," Shaaran said, shaking her head. "If we are spotted at the port, they will shoot us out of the sky at once. There are only seven of us, and there are hundreds of them that we know of. That journey may take minutes, but we would be slaughtered in seconds. It isn't worth the risk."

"Besides, I thought this was a stealth mission," Annad continued helpfully. "We have to keep quiet, and we have to keep out of sight. To be honest, I was expecting to go this way in the first place because of that. And if they are watching for us from the west, so much the better. The city's backdoor will be the last thing on their minds. What's more, we know a way in – we know a few ways in, now that I think of it."

Before she could get anymore excited, John clamped his hand on her shoulder and frowned at her. "All those ways could prove to be just as dangerous. If we are expected, it is very likely the wall is guarded just as heavily as the port. The people who set them there know very well that we are much more than we seem, and that the purpose for our visit is revenge, if nothing else. I doubt they would take chances, just now."

A sense of unease settled over them as they all considered this in silence. Shaaran glanced at each of her companions, guessing at what they must be thinking. Rowan was plainly scolding himself needlessly, because the safest course he could find was still terribly uncertain. Annad and Norriss were equally disappointed and pleased, ready for battle, but knowing the delay and danger it would bring. John, Marlie, and Allun just wanted to batter through all the obstacles in their way and reach their children before the worst befell them – if they even still had that chance. Every second they wasted arguing over which course to take seemed to be draining their strength away.

Shaaran, herself, wasn't sure what to think. All the roads they had to choose from led directly into danger, or at least into the unknown, and there was no way to plan for any of it. They all looked bleak to her, at the same time as they all looked promising. Having nothing of real substance to offer, she kept silent, as she usually did.

After a long stretch of anxious silence, Allun sighed heavily and wandered away. "I am going to light a fire," he announced. "We will make tea and toast, and talk of what else this little boy has seen. It may not be much, but I am sure we can make something of it. We've done well in the past, being led by another little boy much like him. I think we should do so again."

Rowan smiled after him, glad that someone was confident in him. "It isn't much, at all; but it is far more than I was ever given. And Zizi knows quite a lot, for all that he hasn't left his hiding place. It's not a bad place to start."

And so that was decided, and the rest of them tried to settle themselves to wait. Clearly, they didn't want to; precious time was slipping away while they sat on the beach, with the city right in their sight. It was impossible to argue with Allun's reasoning, though. Food and firelight would be soothing, and it would be wise to discus what knowledge they had at hand. Perhaps, in the flashes he had seen, Zizi had discovered a gap in the enemy's defenses that could be slipped through easily. Perhaps, while they waited and talked and ate, the child would see a new vision and report it to his brothers. It was possible that waiting another hour could give them a clue that could save them.

Shaaran remained close to Unos, enjoying having the beloved beast to herself for a moment. Without surprise, saw watched Marlie stalk after her husband to help him look for kindling. John was fiddling with the spare sword he had grabbed in haste, taking a moment to finally test its edge and balance, and making a face over it. Elsewhere, Rowan had walked off with his sister and brother to stand atop the nearby dunes and gaze at the horizon.

"It's so sad and strange to look at," Annad commented, sweeping her hand over the sight of the wilderness. "I didn't really get a good look at it back then – it went by so fast, before I could see it at all. Not that I really wanted to… It seems so dead."

Rowan shook his head. "It's not. This desert is teeming with life; you just can't see it. I've read that that is how it is with deserts. They are like the sea, in that way: full of life that can only exist beneath its surface. I don't care much for it, myself."

Norriss hummed in fascination and nudged him a bit. "How many do you wager there are, lurking beneath all that sand and clay?"

Rowan pinned him with a look. "The ishken, you mean? I have no idea, and prefer it that way. As long as we stay off the ground and away from their sharp senses, they are no threat to us." He huffed a bit and crossed his arms before carrying on in a lower voice, "I know that John would prefer the faster, easier way, as long as both ways are risky and uncertain. I know he is willing to risk that, and I know he wishes to be the one in charge of this mission. How am I supposed to tell him that none of this can be?"

The three of them peeked over their shoulders at the older man, who was still trying to feel comfortable with his own sword and nearly mad with impatience and fear for his only child. He happened to look up and notice them watching him so anxiously, and so sheathed his unworthy sword and marched up the dunes to join them.

"You've told us of your crossing this wilderness many times before," he ventured as boldly as he could. "Must we really cross it again? It seems foolish to me."

Rowan shrugged and didn't meet his gaze. "It certainly won't take mere minutes, but the flight will take far less than an hour. To cross on foot now would be madness. Even if I were to suggest it, Allun wouldn't allow us to try; he would sit on us all, before he let that happen. Neither of us want to relive that, nor make the rest of you endure it, too."

"So, that's just it? We fly across this wilderness and try to breach the wall? If it is guarded as I know it must be, we will be sitting ducks. We won't even have the chance to escape, let alone land in the city."

"In that case, our chances will be just as bad if we try for the port. The only difference is that we will be shot down and killed faster. I know that at least a legion of monsters is waiting there for us, poised to strike at anything that moves. Whether or not the wall is guarded is still to be seen; there is a chance that it is not."

"Especially if the port is guarded to stop us in the first place," Annad put in. Shaaran could tell, just by looking at the back of her head, that her mind was hard at work. "Knowing this queen of theirs, she is counting on that forward assault to kill us before we go any further. She knows that we are impatient with anger and fear for our family, and so she expects for us to go the most direct way we can, storming into it without thinking. It's why she's concentrated so much force on that road, is it not? Even if the wall _is_ guarded, it won't be half as heavily. It will only be as a precaution, since she knows that Rowan is so full of surprises; and even that may be for show. If she is working for a greater enemy, she won't want to take chances against such a powerful and legendary hero. In short, I agree – the wilderness is our best bet right now."

It was difficult for John to argue with all she knew of battles and strategies, since he had allowed and even encouraged her to learn it. Annad had always had a knack for such things, and so had Alanis. If his own daughter had been there, she probably would have agreed with her brother and sister, not her father. Whether he was thinking of this, too, or simply admitting that he was wrong, the ridged way he was standing showed that he was pained.

On a whim, John knelt and picked a stone out of the sand. He turned it over and over in his hand, feeling its size and shape, probably more pleased with its feel than his sword. He stood again and, without warning, threw it as hard as he could into the wilderness.

"What did you do that for?" Rowan demanded, alarmed and nearly yelling.

"I'm curious," John answered coolly. "I'd like to see these creatures, just once."

Seeing at once what he had done, Shaaran scrambled up the dunes to stand beside him, thrilled and frightened at the same time to actually see the beasts that had haunted her earliest nightmares. By the time she joined him, she could no longer see the stone. But she hadn't stood there a few seconds before the hideous form of an enormous insect burst from underground, snapping its pincers and flailing its spindly legs in hunger. It screeched horribly, angry that there was no prey to be snatched, and writhed in fury. The thing had sprung up more than a few hundred yards away, but its size struck terror into her heart. Beside her, her friends were crying out in shock and horror, and even John was pale at the sight.

"I know that sound," came Allun's voice from behind them. "What have you done?"

Shaaran tore her eyes away to see him and Marlie running to meet them, leaving their half-assembled pile of kindling behind. Now all seven of them were standing together on the dunes, screaming and crying out at the paralyzing sight of an ishken cheated of prey. For the first time, Allun surprised her. He fell to his knees in the sand, overcome by what he what he was seeing, and perhaps by vivid memories of the last time he had seen one of these wretched things.

Zeel had been with him, then. He had helped her through flashbacks of her own, that day. It was little wonder it had broken him.

As the ishken finally retreated back into its lair, he pounded his fists in the sand and cursed violently. "I had really hoped we wouldn't have to repeat that," he hissed, cradling his face in his hands as though it had been bruised. "Dammit, man, why did you have to do that?"

For what had happened to her dear husband, Marlie punched John's arm as hard as she could. He was the only one of them ignorant enough to have caused it. "Remind me why we still do things with you," she snapped.

Behind them, there came a sound. A startling sound, causing them all to jump in alarm. It was an unknown voice, chuckling warmly to itself.

"Yes, I know," it said. "They are charming, aren't they?"

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I hadn't planned to, but I've cut this chapter short. If I don't, we'll end up with another one of those 9K behemoths, and none of us are really for that, I think. This is nearly to 6K already, and no where near the end I had planned, so I'll just quit while I'm ahead.

I'm also a big fan of how I've had to put everyone's name but John's into my new computer's dictionary, as well as convincing it that Rowan can, so, be a proper name with a capital letter. I haven't even gotten to all the other made-up names and weird spellings of perfectly good names yet. It's always a chore with a new computer. XD


	5. Chapter 4: The Stranger

_Chapter 4: The Stranger_

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The seven of them turned at the sound, calm and mellow, and almost loving. On the beach just behind them, a dark-skinned young man was sitting with his back to them, cross-legged before the pile of kindling, balancing a long black staff across his knees. They jumped together to see him there, unaware that they hadn't been alone this whole time, and startled by his sudden appearance.

They hadn't looked away but for a few seconds. How had he appeared so silently, and so quickly? Where had he been hiding all along? As if sensing their shock, the stranger turned his head a bit, shaking his shaggy black hair out of his face so they could see one pale blue eye twinkling at them.

And he was smiling warmly, with fondness in his face.

"In fact," he continued, "they are quite cuddly, when you get to know them. They were never meant to be so menacing, you know."

With that, he turned back to the kindling; and without a sound, the pile burst into a merry flame and began crackling pleasantly. The stranger seemed pleased, and sat back to enjoy its light. He even began humming quietly to it

As if the man's nonchalance had offended him, John frowned and reached for his sword. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where have you come from?"

Without turning his head, the stranger answered, "No one of consequence, and nowhere of consequence."

With an angry huff, John drew his sword and stumbled back down the dune. His companions couldn't believe him, but it was plain that his step-son was particularly displeased with him. In fact, he looked downright mortified, all at once.

"We haven't the time for games, boy," John snapped. "Rise! Show us your face, and answer me properly!"

The stranger sighed in annoyance, and could almost be heard rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he took his staff in hand as he obeyed the command. It was obvious that he had only done so to humor the other man – or perhaps to put him in his place. When the stranger had risen to his full height and thrust the end of his staff into the sand, he towered easily four heads taller than John, and with far more might. The teasing twinkle had left his eyes, and now he looked frighteningly stern.

"'To rise', is not an order so easily thrown about in these lands," he said severely, as though he had caught a child cursing. "It is for the priests, and the rebels, and the Dragons, alone. I trust you will remember, in the future."

With that, the stranger turned away again and settled himself as before. He picked up his humming where he had left off and completely ignored John's stunned, shamed silence behind him, as though nothing had happened.

After a moment, Allun took a deep breath and ventured down next. Shaaran stole another glance at Rowan, wondering if he was just a worried as before. Instead, he seemed relieved.

"Rebels, is it?," Allun commented, kneeling beside the stranger. "Funny thing about rebels, we had just come here looking for a few, ourselves."

"Ah, yes," the stranger agreed flatly. "There, in the city. That storm has been brewing for centuries, I'm afraid."

Pleased to be making some progress, Allun smiled and nodded eagerly. "You would know all about that, of course."

The stranger looked up at him and raised his eyebrow. "Oh, would I now? Well, if you _arin'mai_ say so, then it must be the truth. Who would know better what is true and what is not, after all?"

By now, the rest of their party had cautiously come down to join them around the fire, glad that this enormous, handsome, mysterious man was approachable with the right tone of voice. As they watched, he waved his hand and twitched his fingers over the fire and seemed to make it pop and hiss in certain places, as one might by stoking it with a stick. It was a wonder that Allun hadn't asked about it yet; but he was transfixed by what he was seeing – enchanted, puzzled, and alarmed all at the same time.

"That is a marvelous trick," Marlie said for him, leaning over and placing her hands on her knees, being just as casual as the stranger was. "How are you doing it? Moreover, how did you light the fire at all, without flint or tinder?"

The stranger laughed and looked up into her curious face. "No flint or tinder, she says. Where did you get an idea like that, my lady?"

Marlie squinted at him. "Well, you've nowhere to keep them – or anything, for that matter," she answered, gesturing over his person. He was barely clothed, with only a tattered scrap of black cloth wrapped and tied around his waist. There were no pockets, no pouches, no bag around his massive shoulders. His staff was clearly the only item he had with him.

Seeing that she had caught him, somehow, the stranger smiled coolly at her and looked back at the fire without explaining himself. He seemed pleasantly surprised that someone here had clever enough eyes to see…

To see what, exactly? It was a puzzle, Shaaran decided: a living, breathing, chuckling puzzle, and he was giving them clues to figuring him out. She was sure of it. She could hear it in his vagueness, in his refusal to answer questions, in the very fact that he had appeared at all. But she couldn't begin to guess at what those clues meant, or what they had even been. So she stood aside, thinking carefully over it, while her family continued trying to engage their new companion.

Annad was trying next, sitting across the fire and giving him a sincere smile. "So, do you have a name?" she asked pleasantly.

The stranger smiled back, looking touched that someone had finally asked. "I do, but it is a long one. Do you have a name?"

She crossed her arms and gave him a teasing look. "I do, but it's a short one. I'll tell you mine, if you'll tell me yours."

He grinned at her sass, but shook his head. "We all have a great many names, Golden Guard. I daresay I could tell you a few you did not even know you had."

Annad blinked at him in great surprise. "I think I believe it, too. How did you know that one? My brother is the only other person who knew it!"

"The flame told me," he answered simply. "It is what the trees and the seas and the winds call you, and flame agrees, it is lovely and suits you well."

She opened her mouth to say something – to ask more questions, and questions she had held onto since her childhood, they all knew – but she seemed to change her mind before she could think of any of them. Instead, she sighed and stared at her lap. The stranger watched her carefully and rubbed his neck, looking truly sorry to have disappointed her.

"They call me Prince of the Rocky Lands," he said slowly. "Long, as I said it was. I suppose it is unfair, to learn your name from others and not give mine in return. Cheating, I believe is the word, in your tongue. Forgive my dishonesty, good woman; it was wrong of me."

While Annad smiled and accepted his apology, Shaaran felt a stir beside her. It had come from Rowan, who had just barely twitched and become ridged and pale. She had seen his face like that before, and knew what it meant. He had seen or heard, or simply understood something just said, and figured out the whole puzzle in an instant. And whatever the answer was, it had shaken him to his core.

Wishing she could help him just now, she laid a gentle hand on his arm. She felt him relax slightly under her touch, and he gripped her hand with his own to steady himself. She could tell he wanted to blurt out the answer to everyone, to scream the truth at the top of his voice, but that it wasn't time to do so yet. He had to keep the knowledge to himself for now; but it was so big and so important, he was bursting at his seams trying to keep it secret.

The stranger cleared his throat and said, "Now, let me ask something of you charming people – some of whom, I could swear I have seen somewhere before." He was looking with particular interest between Allun and Norris, and asked them, "Are you certain we have never met?"

They both shrugged, and Norriss said, "If you don't mind, sir, if I met an unmarked Zebak man of your stature, I am sure I would remember."

"Unmarked… Ah, yes, that," the stranger said faintly, as if he had forgotten the law of his native land. "Still, you've both been here. Many of you have been, some much longer than others. What brings you back so suddenly? It appears to me that you have lost something. Something of tremendous value."

He watched as each of them wilted in sorrow, remembering what had brought them to this beach in the first place. He studied each of them briefly; but for whatever reason, his gaze kept wandering expectantly back to Allun, and Marlie beside him. He seemed to want them alone to answer him. It was little surprise, though; neither of them had ever been able to hide their heartbreak half as well as their friends, and it shown more bitterly in them than anyone else.

"Yes, we have lost something," Allun said quietly, taking his wife's hand in his. "Something precious."

The stranger seemed to understand at once. As he continued studying the couple, a similar look of sadness came over his face. A look of remembered love and loss and the pain of it. A look of recalling his fondest moments with someone he loved, because that person was no longer with him. A look that he truly understood what the couple before him was feeling, and that he truly cared. He sighed deeply and stared at the fire.

"No parent should ever know such a thing," he said in a low voice, nearly mumbling. "I only wish that my deepest sympathies could make it right again."

In spite of everything, they looked weirdly relieved that this perfect stranger sympathized with their sorrow. They had spent two years trying to hide it, as their people usually did, and being scolded whenever it peeked through. It must have been a pleasant surprise for them, now.

"Then, you've lost a child, too," Marlie ventured when the stranger was silent a little too long. He raised his head and gazed toward the wastelands.

"I have lost several," he answered disdainfully. "A great many, in fact. You could say, it is why I am trapped out here, when I would rather be in there, helping them." He pointed toward the horizon, where plumes of smoke were still rising over the walls of the city.

"So, your family is still in Habaharan?" Annad asked, growing excited again. "Are they with the rebellion? Do you mean to help them?"

The stranger nodded shortly. "I suppose you could say all of this. I am not allowed in the city, however, and cannot go beyond its walls."

Norriss snorted in disbelieving laughter. "Neither are we, man. You don't think that is going to stop us, do you? You should come with us! We were just wondering at how to get inside, exactly; and even if we succeed, we haven't even discussed how we will know where to go next. But you are from Habaharan – you could help us a great deal…"

The hopefulness in his voice died as the stranger pinned his pale eyes on him. It sounded a good and practical idea, but he hardly seemed thrilled about it.

"You misunderstand me, I think," the stranger said frankly. "I cannot go beyond the city's walls by my own will. I am bound to it, I am afraid."

Speaking for the first time, Rowan gasped and started toward the man. "By what manner of darkness is this?" he demanded, suddenly furious, clearly knowing exactly what the man had meant.

The stranger gazed at him with a something like hope in his eyes. As if, perhaps, he had been waiting to meet him for a long time.

"It is by the very means you say, Red One," he said gravely, stretching out his mighty hand in welcome. "I will play my games and waste your time no longer. Sit with me."

Rowan did as he was asked, or had been politely told to do, at once. He looked frightened and nervous to be sitting so close to the stranger, as if he might strike him without warning. But the stranger remained pleasant and even-toned, as he began speaking in another language.

" _Na'Kyrai, Ik't'ai wroven'o,"_ he said pointedly. The rest of them frowned over it, not knowing what he was saying; many of them frowned harder when Rowan nodded bravely in perfect understanding.

" _Abe, ik'gase,"_ he mumbled, almost obediently, not exactly pleased by what he had been told. The stranger gave him an encouraging smile and gripped his hand.

" _Ane'mul'juxa, hua'yowla mul'en'tiskre,"_ he said gently, finally getting Rowan to smile a bit. There had been a tension between them so far, but it vanished at once.

"What is he saying?" John demanded suddenly. Instead of an answer, he got an angry glare from his step-son, and an annoyed glance from the stranger.

"You know I don't like saying this to you, John, but please – shut up," Rowan hissed at him. Their companions couldn't help laughing, and the stranger grinned .

"Yes, please, John," he teased. "The sons of the Stars are talking, if you do not mind; but we will not be much longer." He turned back to Rowan and shook his head in amusement.

" _Nis'hau'yowla fe'fata,"_ he went on, nodding to where John was pacing in embarrassed silence.

Rowan smiled at his teasing, but mostly just shrugged. _"Fe's'en baleo,"_ he said, sounding as doubtful as he looked.

While they went on talking, Shaaran crept after John and tapped his arm to get his attention. "Our mysterious friend is only giving him advice, if it helps," she whispered.

John stared at her in amazement. "You understand what they're saying?" he whispered back.

"Not perfectly, but I know enough of their words to follow along. Our friend only said that we have work to do, and to not give up just because we are afraid – or because of your foul mood – and Rowan is worried that all of that will be difficult. I have to agree with them. You are being a pest, all at once, and you aren't helping things. You must calm down."

John looked like he wanted to argue otherwise, but thankfully did not. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at the stranger and grumbled, "I only wish this young man would make his intentions clear. He appears to sympathize with us, and with the rebels, but he plainly has no plans to join us. And I don't like it that he is suddenly speaking in a language he knows we don't understand. What is he hiding from us?"

"He doesn't seem to be hiding anything," Shaaran insisted, listening to the foreign words and picking out words she knew. "He is speaking to Rowan as he might to his own son, with words of encouragement. He simply wishes to do so privately, personally."

John didn't seem convinced. "And what does he mean, having a great many children? How many children can such a young man be father to? Big as he is, he can't be any older than your brother."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Certainly. His size was a shock, but he is Zebak. They are all larger than most people."

Shaaran rolled her eyes at him. "Perhaps some of them are, but no one is quite so massive. And he is much older, and much more than he appears. Look at his face, John. It seems so familiar… Do you remember Zan Garased? He looks a bit like him, I think."

John considered this, and gasped as the stranger frowned in thought. "Zeel makes that face – that exact same face. You would think the man was her own father."

"I know," Shaaran agreed. "And there are other faces I used to know in his, too. As if he were all of them at once. I wonder…"

"What do you wonder?"

Never one to jump to conclusions, Shaaran shook her head. "Never mind what I wonder. I may be quite wrong. I probably am. I almost hope that so. We will all know shortly, I believe."

She had missed much of the other conversation and now had no idea what Rowan and the stranger had been discussing; she tuned back into it and found that they seemed to be finishing it.

" _Krifa'mul'forse't nunai, kas mul'sunda tafa,"_ the stranger was saying, gesturing at his eyes and temple. Something about keeping them open, Shaaran thought. Half those words were new to her, and she couldn't be sure.

" _Loua'mul'en'dirsa?"_ Rowan asked, looking concerned. She knew exactly what that meant – _What are you saying? What do you mean?_ Whatever the stranger had been saying, he didn't like it.

" _Mul's'en fore,"_ the stranger assured him. Then he shrugged and added, _"Na'yakher'en'ane'gase eb'ik, sai."_

 _The future is not known to me._ It was almost word for word. Rowan seemed bitterly disappointed to hear it.

" _Ouai. Kagushe,"_ he sighed, hanging his head.

"What did he just say?" John whispered furiously. "It sounded horrible."

" _Kagushe_? It's not a curse, it just means 'fabulous'," Shaaran answered, pushing him out of her face. "He is being sarcastic. It doesn't translate very well, though..."

Indeed, as the stranger gripped Rowan's shoulder, he appeared puzzled.

"For the most part, then, we understand each other," he said, in words they all knew. "Do you trust me, Red One?"

"With my whole heart, sir," Rowan answered right away.

The stranger nodded and stood again, compelling all those sitting with him to stand, also. The air seemed to be humming with excitement – the way Shaaran noticed it always did, when something amazing was about to happen.

"Red One," he said, "it is your cause, as Titan, to break that which cannot be broken. Will you break something for me, here and now, in the eyes and ears of those present?"

Rowan blinked at the eloquent request. "If it is within my power, yes."

"Very good. I wish for your permission to enter the city."

They seemed to be talking about several things at once, somehow. Magic had a way of being like that – meaning many things all at the same time, while meaning very little to those who didn't understand it. While the rest of them were baffled over it, Rowan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, gathering his strength, choosing his words carefully.

"I still do not fully understand why it is needed," he confessed first. "In any case, you now have my permission to go beyond the walls of the Safe Place, and enter Habaharan city."

It was unclear what he had done, or how he had done it, or why it was so important at all. But the stranger smiled marvelously and sighed deeply, as though a terrible burden had been lifted away from him. As if he were breathing free air for the first time – or for the first time in a long, long time.

Something about the world felt different now. It was impossible to tell what it was, exactly; it was just changed, somehow, or completely gone. All that Shaaran knew for sure was that it had been magical, and that the world felt a shade better for it.

The stranger righted himself, standing more mightily than before, and pointed toward the city.

"The wall is deserted," he announced urgently. "Your way into the city is clear. A guide has been sent, and awaits your arrival. You will know her, when you see you. She will take you to your brother at once."

The whole party gasped in amazement, and in wonder at how confident at he was.

"Is it truly that simple?" Rowan asked, as the stranger moved away from them.

"I think you will find that it is," he agreed, patting Unos' scaly neck, and chuckling as she hissed in happy greeting. "I wish I could accompany you at once, but I am afraid that it isn't possible. I've a guest of my own, at the moment, and feel I must be home to him. I worry that he might grow impatient and wander off, if left alone too long. But he and I both will be joining you, shortly. He has work of his own to do."

Rowan hummed at this. "Do I dare ask who he is? What he is to do? Or should I just wait and see?"

"Waiting would be best for now, I think, Red One. I trust I can leave things in your capable hands?"

Anyone else in Rin would have agreed at once that they were just the person for the job – whether they knew what it was or not – and assured the stranger that they would see their work done. Most would have boasted about their strengths, and made lavish promises of what they would accomplish on their own. But Rowan had always been humble and honest to a fault; and so, looking a bit daunted, he simply said, "I can only promise to do my very best."

And, looking pleased by his honesty, the stranger nodded. "Then that will have to suffice."

With that, he turned on his heel, and vanished. There was no rush of wind, or chiming of deep magic, or any other sign. He simply disappeared before their eyes, and was gone. The only sign that he had been there at all were his footprints in the sand, and the cheerily blazing fire, and the shocked cries of the entire gathering.

"What was that?" Allun demanded for all of them. "Rowan, who the hell was that?"

The Titan hesitated, his gaze locked on the spot where the stranger had stood only seconds ago. He swallowed hard before taking a deep breath, and finally speaking in slow, halting words.

"The Prince of the Rocky Lands, just as he said. That was Heomiri, son of Solaris, Dragon of Fire."

Shaaran marveled at what she felt at those words. Somewhere between fright and joy, she thought. She had suspected that anyone as strange as the man they had just met might be the very same, but she hadn't liked being so sure of it. She felt John glancing at her, looking for a sign that her wondering had been true, after all. She couldn't guess at what he was thinking or feeling.

Not sharing her family's fright, Annad bounded to her brother's side and grabbed his arm, suddenly ten years old and full of fancies again. "Teleportation," she reasoned loudly. "That was how he appeared so suddenly! And how he lit our fire, and was able to control it! Oh, everything makes perfect sense, now! Rowan, what else did he say to you? What did he tell you to do? Did he tell you why he can't go into the city? Tell us everything!"

"I'm afraid he didn't say much about that," he answered, brushing her off and striding back to Unos. "Mostly, he warned us all to keep our eyes open, and our minds clear. It seems to me that this is not the simple rescue mission we had expected. We are about to learn quite a lot about our so-called, 'ancient enemy', and he means for it to be so."

"He wants the Zebak to be seen and heard, finally," Norriss agreed at once. "And why wouldn't he? Of course he's lost a great many children – he speaks of their whole race, locked away and enslaved and lied about all these ages."

John stared at him in disbelief. "You don't really believe all of this so easily?" he demanded.

Norriss shrugged in confusion. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "A father, wanting to save his children from a terrible fate? We can all understand that. Besides, Rowan trusts him. That is enough for me."

"I dare say, all of that is enough for all of us," Allun agreed. "That said, let us board our trusty friend once more, and make haste to that cursed wall! If there is someone waiting for us there, it won't do to keep her waiting for us."

Even Unos seemed thrilled to have a clear direction, fidgeting excitedly as her masters climbed on her back. Before they could take flight, Marlie raised her voice from her place in the back.

"Rowan, are you sure you don't know what it is you've broken for him? He seemed to know exactly what it was. I can't believe you don't have some idea, yourself. Don't you think you should tell us what it is?"

He seemed peeved to be asked, when he plainly didn't have an answer; but he answered as best he could. "I suspect foul play and dark magic. Something underhanded, which even a Dragon couldn't escape alone."

Which earned a sputter of laughter from his sister. "But a whole Dragon, Rowan? Nothing could be too difficult for a Dragon to handle."

"Not usually; but remember, Annad, Dragons only have the power to create. They can destroy nothing – not even things they create, themselves. Not even oaths and curses, it seems. Fortunately, there is always humanity. If there is anything we are good at, it is breaking the perfectly good order the Dragons have put in place. It is much of the reason they have chosen Titans to begin with."

Annad frowned at him. "You are being dramatic again. It can't really be that serious."

Rowan looked at her over his shoulder. "Let me put it this way: if the Dragons _could_ destroy things, the entire Maris race would have been wiped out eons ago."

She was silent for a moment. "…Oh," she whispered at last. After that, she said nothing.

Sitting between them, Shaaran thought that idea over for a moment. It was a fact they all knew by now, but clearly took for granted whenever it crossed their minds. And it dawned on her that when Rowan had first met the Dragon whose power now commanded his life, it had also been to do something the ancient, marvelous creature could not do for himself. It had been remarkably simple, in the end; but even the Lord of Earth had needed destructive human hands to undo that small accident.

 _Because they can't undo their accidents,_ she reasoned sadly. _They can't even take back their small mistakes, as we can. So, what mistake has the Lord of Fire made?_

She had to push that thought away. Unos was unfurling her wings, hissing with excitement to be on their way again. There was a strange eagerness in that excitement, too. She gripped Rowan's arm, as he gripped the beast, and found that she could faintly hear what they were saying.

" _All will be well,"_ Unos was cheering, in a voice that sounded distant but filled with gladness. _"Did you hear, Red One? The Hallowed Father is in our land, and all will be well! He will trample the enemy, and restore our land to its old glory!"_

" _He said none of that, Only One,"_ Rowan pointed out as patiently as he could.

" _The Hallowed Father is in our land, and so it_ will _be so,"_ Unos insisted. _"Oh, He is a good and wonderful Father, is He not? I have always hoped to see Him. Now that I have, I like Him quite a lot."_

Filled to bursting with more than just animal happiness, Unos took off in a single bound, and flew without being told toward the walls of Habaharan city.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Christmas – and, in fact, all of December – was just exhausting. I couldn't believe how excited I was for the New Year. Not quite as much as last year, which was 12 whole months of exhaustion; but still, I've been ready for the next journey for a while.

I started the year off right, too – by _finally_ finishing my notes on _Rowan and the Ice Creepers/Bukshah/whatever-the-hell-its-name-is._ Fun fact, it's a little more depressing every time I read it. And Bronden still makes me cry every time. Also, you just know that as soon as Rowan mentions that the mountain had stairs the whole time, Sheba will have to hide from several people for… Forever. XD

Anyway, I spent most of last month pretty much braindead, which is why this chapter is under 5K. I had hoped to land _on_ the wall before the end, but I'm sick and tired of this chapter mocking me, so it's done right now. Parts of it still feel odd to me, but all of it is necessary in my mind, so I'll leave it. I'd really just like to get on with the show, because the first of a few battles is coming shortly!

I hope you all enjoyed meeting Jesus – I mean – Heomiri, and are looking forward to him popping up again later. If anyone is curious as to what, exactly, he and Rowan were saying, I'd be happy to send you a direct translation. Don't worry, there will be plenty more _Laira'dirsa_ before the end. ;D

Happy New Year, friends!


	6. Chapter 5: Within the City

Just a heads up, I've switched from MS Office to OpenOffice. Probably not a huge deal, but... We'll see what comes of it. Lol, after my new MS Office dictionary was finally starting to catch up. OpenOffice is about to lose it mind. XD

Anyway, some of the people you're used to are back in this chapter. Also, time for another party member swap!

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 _Chapter 5: Within the City_

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From a comfortable distance, it all appeared to Rowan just as he remembered it from so long ago – the red clay of the wastelands, the sudden sharp smoothness of the steel wall, the complete strangeness of this part of the world. As they flew closer and closer to Habaharan's famous wall, he was overcome by a feeling of nostalgia. All the stranger, for his last journey through this barren land had held no happiness for him, and had never had any desire to come back.

Perhaps it was simply because Zeel had been with him, then, and they had grown so much closer over those few days. She had traveled by his side, then; and now, his whole purpose in returning was to find her. Thinking of what might have become of her and their one child by now, somewhere within the walls, in a city that was clearly burning to the ground, twisted knots in his stomach.

It was still difficult to believe that the wall could be completely deserted, even though the Lord of Fire, Himself, had promised it. It just seemed so improbable, at a time like this. Perhaps, the false Titan was just that secure in her borrowed power, that it didn't matter to her one way or another if someone waltzed right into the city. Perhaps she simply assumed that such a person would be caught up in the madness inside and lost, as it had always been.

At least, until those people inside found a clever new way to escape. He and his friends, his family, his destined child were only the most recent band to do so. He wondered if the Dragon Lords had grown used to it, if they expected it, even; or if it baffled them anew every time, as if such a thing had never been heard of or done before.

He wondered if Zadina, who he had once mistakenly called his Hallowed Sister, had any idea that he was coming to smash her ancestors' work to pieces. Did she expect him to come, or was he about to give her the shock of her life? She was so vain, it was difficult to guess.

 _Honestly, neither one will surprise me,_ he finally decided to himself.

He knew that his friends behind him were all reaching for their various weapons as Unos swooped over the wall to land. It would have been odd if they hadn't; but as soon as they landed and jumped to their own feet, it was clear to see that it was as promised. They had landed on a long, wide walkway, walled on either side with solid steel railings, and flanked by small watchtowers. Not wanting to be seen, even though they appeared to be alone, the seven crouched low behind those low railings.

"Let me see if I remember correctly," Annad said in a low voice. "The four walls are divided into sections just like this, and there is a squadron of ten assigned to each one. Five to watch the horizon for intruders, and five to watch the city for rebels, I think is the idea."

All but her husband looked at her in surprise.

"How do you know that?" Marlie asked.

"The Garased boy told me about it, those years ago when he was in our jailhouse," Annad answered. "I was curious, and also wondered if the knowledge might be of any use someday. Its been better armor and arms than anything else we've brought, so far."

Norriss nodded in approval, looking quite proud of his wife. "The boy and I had a few discussions about that, ourselves. It's all very different from what I recalled. Once upon a time, this whole wall would not have been guarded at all – it faces south, into the wastelands, and of course an invasion from _that_ direction should be impossible. As for the view from here, what isn't slums is Central housing and unimportant neighborhoods."

Annad shrugged, recalling those conversations along with him. "I believe the boy said he lives in that area. Southside, I think he called it. Apparently, the people there aren't wealthy or politically interesting, and so Central neglects the area altogether. It's really no wonder the rebellion was born there; no one ever pays attention to it."

"What's left of it, you mean," John observed grimly, daring to peek over the ledge at the city. "You should all see this..."

Following his lead, they slowly rose until they could just see into the city; and as soon as he saw it, Rowan felt his heart breaking all over again. The scene before them was like something from a nightmare. Buildings were burning all over the city, some of them very close by. Other buildings weren't burning, but appeared to have been fired upon with canons, with holes blasted into their sides. Windows everywhere were broken, and doors hung twisted out of their hinges. The streets were filled with debris and dust, and other things too terrible to look at.

Above the city, massive flocks of grach wheeled together for safety, with no masters and no direction. There were easily hundreds of them, all their raspy hisses filling the air. Unos was watching them anxiously, swaying as her forked tongue tasted all their scents. She plainly wanted to fly off to join them, to find her mate among them if she could, to follow her instinct to take shelter with her own kind. But she was still with her family, as was too loyal to leave them.

Aside from that, it was deathly quiet. Rowan scanned the streets for movement, and saw nothing anywhere; even in the slums, nothing stirred. Compared to the wails of grief and terror that had filled his mind just the previous night, the utter silence was bone chilling. Beside him, Marlie was shaking her head, her face pale with horror.

"It's only been one night," she whispered. "Not even a fully day, yet! What could have caused so much destruction in just _one_ night?"

That was a terrifying question. Sick to his stomach, Rowan looked away from the ruined city and shut his eyes. Habaharan was vast city – bigger than he had ever guessed – and something had overrun and destroyed it all in a single night. He couldn't bear to think of how many were now dead at the hands of such force; he could only imagine that they must be beyond count. The temptation to despair for his wife and daughter was nearly too strong to withstand.

… _..Um...?_

Just as that temptation was overcoming him, a blessed voice broke into his thoughts. It was Zizi's voice, louder and stronger than before, no doubt feeling the anger and grief and fear in his brother's heart. Rowan found a reason to smile faintly, glad to have a direction again.

 _Zizi, we are here, on the Southside wall,_ he told the boy as matter-of-factly as he could. _You are right below us somewhere, I think._

 _Did you see – Did you see what they did to the – Look at the city! They broke it – all of it! It's all – its ruined! Don't look at – I don't want you to see – it'll make you cry. My big sis says so._

 _Yes, I know. I have seen it, and I do want to cry. One or two of us already are._ He glanced down the row of his friends, not at all surprised that Shaaran was weeping bitterly at the sight.

 _Rowan, Rowan, did you see Ofelia yet? Did you?_

Startled, he stood a little taller and peered all around. _Did I see who?_ He asked.

 _Ofelia,_ Zizi repeated. _She used to be – she didn't – she tried to hit my big sis with a – with a broom, once! But she's good. We all love her, and I – I told her about us, and she – she just – she went off to meet you. She said, "I'll show him – I'll show him the way."_

Ah, yes. The Lord of Fire had mentioned, there would be a guide waiting for them on the wall, who would take them to where Zizi and his sister were hiding. Rowan had wondered who they would meet here; but everything between then and just now had driven it from his mind. And now, it seemed that he and his companions were the only ones on the wall at all.

The wall was divided into sections, he remembered. With a thrill of irritation, he saw that this woman could be waiting on any one of them, and that unless he was very lucky, finding her would take a great deal of time. At the same time, though, his heart went out to her. Even though her city was burning and her people were dying all around her, she had dared to leave her own shelter to find him. She had dared to climb Habaharan's wall, even though she was not of Central Control and forbidden on pain of death to do so. How long had she been sitting here somewhere, waiting for him while hiding for her life?

And Ofelia had not been _sent_. She had simply done what needed to be done. She had done this of her own free will, without being asked to, at terrible risk to herself. Rowan marveled at the courage that must have been in her heart. Oddly, he felt that he understood her very well.

Years ago now, Zan Garased had mentioned someone called Ofelia. It had been in vague passing and not worth remembering, because it wasn't as if they would ever meet. Now, it pierced Rowan's mind like a dart.

 _This must be the very same person the boy was talking about,_ he thought ruefully. _A friend, or a family member, perhaps. Someone he clearly loves very much. Someone Zizi would run to for help and comfort at a time like this. In all these cases and more, we need to find her – quickly!_

As he went on watching for any sign on movement, wishing he knew which way to start searching first, he suddenly heard something. A hissing sound, from somewhere on his left. He and his family turned to look, wondering who had crept up on them this time. But this time, there was no one there.

After a long, tense, silence, it suddenly came again.

"Psst", a voice was hissing from the watchtower there. "Psst!"

Also starting at the sound, Unos flicked her tongue toward the tower, tasting the air for danger. Instead of becoming alarmed, she hissed back in greeting and raised her spines. In Rowan's mind, her normally pleasant voice was nearly squealing with excitement.

" _It is Fair Maiden, who tastes of flour and sugar and sweet lemons! She is not lost, after all! Oh, how I hoped she might escape. And now she is here! Come, Red One, come and meet a friend I have made here. You will like her, I think."_

She plodded toward the tower with great purpose, gently grabbing Rowan's sleeve in her teeth and dragging him along. Despite everything that lay just below, her eagerness cheered him; and he was increasingly excited to meet this woman who man and beast alike thought so highly of. Dimly, he wondered at what his family thought of him just now, and if his behavior was frightening them. If so, there was little time to care.

In the tower's round wall, an open archway gaped like a black pit. Rowan peered into the darkness and saw a staircase leading downward, their way off the wall and to the street. He stuck his head inside and looked down – into a marked, frightened, beautiful face, golden eyes bright against smudges of ash and dust.

The two yelped to see each other so suddenly, but Rowan mostly felt enormous relief. What were the odds that they would land right next to their guide? It was rarely ever that easy. Fate truly was on their side today, and so he grinned for a number of reasons.

"Hello," he said kindly, holding out his hand in greeting. "My name is Rowan."

He had expected her to answer him right away, to jump to her feet and lead them all to their next destination. Instead, the woman continued to stare at him, her face a mix of fright and amazement. And it seemed to him that she was flinching away from him, as though he had reached out his hand to strike her. While she hesitated, it occurred to him that it was only natural for her to be afraid of him; all she knew of Titans was their immense power, and she was used to hers abusing others with it. Surely, she knew who he really was; she was friends with him family, who would have told her the truth. But she knew no better.

Perhaps she was also just stunned to see his face for the first time, unable to believe how familiar it was.

Finally, the woman swallowed hard, gathering her courage, and reached to take his hand.

"Ofelia," she answered, letting him pull her to her feet. She peered over his shoulder and noticed Unos' bulky shape looming behind him, waiting impatiently to be petted. All fear vanished from Ofelia's face, replaced by joy to see the beast alive.

"So this is how you did it," she commented, taking Unos' head in her heads and scratching behind the quivering spines. "I had wondered..."

She looked up and gazed out of the tower, seeming to notice the other people there for the first time. Just like that, her eyes went wide again. Almost certainly she could guess who those people were; their children all looked just like them, too. Seeing that she wasn't going to speak, Rowan beckoned his family to come and join them.

As the six of them hurriedly crept into the safety of the watchtower, Rowan went on watching Ofelia's face, wondering what she was thinking. At least she didn't appear to be afraid of them. She suddenly looked a bit dazzled, as if she couldn't believe her tremendous luck.

" _Ouai_ ," she sighed once they were all crowded inside. "You, I had expected," she said to Rowan without really facing him. "You, I was told were coming; but no one else. Not... all this."

Rowan felt Norriss nudging him, and looked up to see the taller man shaking his head in amusement. "Didn't we have this discussion the last time you were here?"

Rolling his eyes at his brother-in-law, he brushed him off and placed his hand on Ofelia's shoulder. He was surprised to see her shaking, overwhelmed by what had just happened.

"I'm sorry to have surprised you this way," he apologized. "We just... Well, I'm sure you can tell why we're all here."

Still clinging slightly to Unos' solid presence, Ofelia hummed in agreement. "Yes, I can," she said, her gaze wandering around the gathering once again.

"Ofelia, listen to me. I need to find Zizi, and I need to find him at once. You know where he is – it is why you've come here, isn't it? If you can just get me to him, perhaps together we can make this madness right again."

The woman looked like she had a great many questions to ask him, and he didn't blame her. He was glad when she visibly forced them all away, and a great sternness filled her golden eyes.

"Come with me," she answered, nodding her head. "It's straight down to the street. I meant to show you the way; one man or seven, it doesn't matter."

It came as no surprise that Shaaran and Norriss were the first to follow her. After that, the rest followed in single file. Rowan himself waited until very last, hanging back with Unos and patting her scaly neck for what felt like the last time.

" _Thank you, Only One, for all you have done for us,"_ he told her. _"You really have been the miracle we've been praying for all this time."_

" _I am glad to have been of help,"_ she agreed. _"But I am still with you, and not leaving your side. Why do you speak as though you are saying goodbye?"_

" _We can handle the rest together. And you don't really want to follow us, do you? You want to join the other grach, and look for your mate."_

" _My Iron Hide made his choice. He will be unhappy to see that I have returned, against his wishes. My place is with you."_

" _No. Your place is with your own, as my place is with mine. You've done your part. Now go. Follow your heart. Be free, my old friend, as your wonderful Hallowed Father would want you to be."_

Looking happy and sad at the same time, Unos thrust her head into his arms once more.

" _Thank you, Red One."_

Without another word, the grach turned and galloped out of the tower, launching into the air and out of sight. It ached to see her go, and it hurt to think that they might never meet again after just being reunited. But as Rowan lost sight of her, he couldn't help feeling that there was a rightness in it.

Wishing the beloved beast all the luck in the world, and followed his own heart.

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Silence and invisibility. Of all the things the true Titan of ancient, silent Earth could do, these two were the most powerful and exciting. Because of that, they were far too sacred to use for anything less than a dire emergency. Therefore, Rowan had only ever used them once or twice, and never on so many people at once, and certainly never at the same time before.

As Ofelia led him and his family down through the wall and onto the street below, it became apparent that he would have to change that today.

"Hang onto me," he told his friends, holding out his hands. "Or hang onto someone who is. Quickly!"

As they scrambled to grab his hands and arms, heavy footsteps and cruel laughter were echoing from somewhere nearby, growing closer and closer. Not a second too soon, Rowan felt the deep magic which filled him flowing out and filling his friends, cloaking and hiding them. Moments later, a pair of men in guard's uniforms came around a corner, kicking garbage out of their way and spitefully crushing debris under their heels. If not for Earthen magic, they would have seen the heroes at once.

Not quite understanding how concealed she was, Ofelia froze in terror at first; then she frowned in puzzlement, but did not relax. Not daring to speak, she looked to Rowan and pleaded silently for an explanation.

"I've hidden us for the moment," he said in a normal voice. "They can neither see nor hear us right now, and thank goodness. These must be the gray monsters Zizi has told us all about."

Behind him, Allun was wrinkling his nose in disgust, all his sharp sense suddenly alert. "Whatever they are, they most certainly are not men," he said tensely, refusing to take his eyes off them for even an instant.

Rowan nodded slowly, wondering if his friend had read his mind, somehow. Indeed, the more he looked at the two guards, the less like men they appeared to him. There was something horribly wrong about them. And it seemed to him that they left a foulness in their wake; it was so thick, he could almost see it. As though with every step they took and everything they happened to touch, they were poisoning the land itself, little by little.

"We need to go, Ofelia," he said to his guide, gripping her hand and willing her some of his own courage. "I can keep us hidden, but not forever. We must get where we are going as soon as possible."

Pleased to be going, Ofelia gripped his hand in return and pulled him off into the street, dragging his friends in a cluster behind him.

"I can sneak around just fine on my own," she said in a low voice. "I made it all the way here without being seen once; it was a near thing, once or twice, but I managed it. I were worried when I saw that so many had come, and I say to myself, 'how do so many people walk unseen past all the guards? Ofelia, girl, you barely make it yourself! _Ouai_ ,' I say, 'we all getting killed..."

Because she was afraid and focused on her mission, her common tongue was falling apart and her lovely accent was growing thicker with every word. Still, she continued babbling in a frenzy, and Rowan allowed it even when he could no longer understand her. All she wanted was to be heard. To make some sort of noise in the hopes that someone might hear it, or at least to ease the terrible pain in her heart.

And it quickly became obvious that she hadn't been able to do that in some time. No one in Habaharan had been. There were guards in gray uniforms standing watch on every street corner, still as stone statues, watching for any sign that someone was stirring. More than once, as the heroes kicked aside debris in their haste, those guards had come alive with vicious snarls and attacked those spots with swords or whips.

If there were any people left here, in what remained of the city's slums, they were hiding just as desperately as the heroes themselves. And so, being the only one of them who could speak freely, Ofelia went on talking, to herself as much as to her companions, sometimes in two languages at once, to distract herself from the sights and smells all around her. Rowan could see that, and couldn't think of telling her to stop.

He wasn't sure when they left the slums, at last; everything was so battered, it all looked sadly alike to him. But there eventually came a time when he noticed, most of the buildings around him were still standing. Many were even undamaged, though their windows were still dark, and the street corners were still being patrolled, and nothing withing those buildings dared stir. Finally, just as he was nearing the end of his strength, Ofelia led him past several large, grand-looking homes, only to duck suddenly into an empty alleyway.

She looked over her shoulder and said something to him in her own language, all the more beautiful in his mind for the accent that went with it. But she spoke so fast and so thickly, he didn't understand.

Being courteous, he asked, " _Loua'mul's'en'dirsa?_ "

Ofelia was just reaching for the backdoor to one of the bigger homes. Hearing him speaking her language so easily, she nodded and slowly repeated, " _Ik't'en ad'haran."_

 _We are home._

Watching to make sure the guards didn't see or hear, she pushed the backdoor open and shooed them all inside a dark, ruined space. Broken glass and pottery crunched under their feet. Annad gasped and caught hold of a bent sink as she nearly slipped on the remains of a cake. The shapes of tumbled, broken chairs and a table hulked in the dimness before them.

The space was very different now, but Rowan knew exactly where he was. He had seen this place, in Iris of Fisk's memories. If only there was warmth and light and a gathering of eager young people instead of the gloom, he knew his family would have recognized it, as well.

"This is Bhlai House, isn't it," he said to Ofelia. She had backed herself against the door to hold it shut, and almost seemed to be hiding from the rest of the house. To Rowan's astonishment, she looked like she might begin to cry.

"Everything is broken," she mumbled, gazing forlornly over the mess. Surely she had been back before leading them here; she had spoken with Zizi, who hadn't left once. But she clearly loved this home and the people who had lived here. Seeing this beloved place smashed spitefully to pieces must have shocked and hurt her. Seeing it again seemed to have broken her heart all over again.

His family, also knowing the place form shared memories, looked around and saw the space in a new light. The dismay was plain in their faces. Then his sister shook herself and marched with purpose to set the broken furniture back up.

"Let's clean this place up a little bit," she suggested gently, mainly to Ofelia. "Then we'll have room to sit and talk, and plan the next steps of our mission. I'm afraid we've played the whole thing by ear so far; but if you are willing, I think you can help us."

She was looking for something practical they could do together. Something to distract Ofelia from the pain she felt, and give her a sense of control in all this chaos, and a chance for them to find a common ground. All those things were vital for everyone right now; and none of them could do it quite like Annad could. Her heart for justice aside, she had learned that skill from watching her older friends care for her brother in the exact same way.

Perhaps already knowing something of this, Ofelia nodded vaguely and came to help her, though she said nothing. Now that she had a purpose, the terrible sadness had left her face, and now her eyes were cold with anger. Maybe even vengeance. But when she happened to glance at Annad and received a smile, she returned it with a look of thanks.

Seeing that that was settled, Rowan turned back to the rest of his family.

"Zizi and his sister are upstairs, somewhere. My next step is finding them. I would holler for them, but with the streets being patrolled as they are..."

Norriss nodded and looked at the ceiling. "There are another two floors above this one, aren't there? We'll help you look. If we split up, we will find them faster."

At the mention of splitting up, Allun and Marlie exchanged a look of interest and understanding. Deciding something for themselves, they went ahead into he rest of the house without waiting for the others.

"We will take the third floor, in that case," Allun explained over his shoulder. "Our children have been hiding up there... Perhaps they've left something useful behind for us."

For half a moment, Rowan wanted to protest. Neither of his dear friends were as young as they had once been, and it seemed unfair for them to hike up so many stairs when they were surrounded by younger folk who could do it, instead. But he knew that they would only tease him for worrying over them, and carry on as if he hadn't spoken. After all, he had asked them to come with him for a reason; it would do no good, asking them to hold back now. It would make no sense, and would only offend them when they were so filled with determination.

As he and Norriss moved to follow them, Rowan looked over his shoulder, surprised that they were following alone. John was helping to right the toppled table, fixing one of its broken legs back in place. Elsewhere, Shaaran had found a broom in all the mess and was doing her best to sweep the floor. Seeing that everyone had a task that suited them set his heart at rest, and so he chose not to call them along.

He continued on after his friends, into what he recalled was the main room of the house. Stepping through the kitchen door, he nearly crashed right into them as they stopped suddenly to stare at another sad, ruined space. Amid a mess of broken glass and the heavy scent of burned books, a torn couch had been set upright, and a still figure draped in stained cloth lay in state upon it.

Simon Bhlai, Rowan realized with a terrible start. Through the crack in his hiding place, Zizi had seen the man cut down by the gray monsters, and heard the man's own big sister cry out in anguish and fury. Rowan knew very little about him – only that he had been sickly and ill-tempered, and that he had grown secretly fond of the young people his sister had hidden for so long. And he had died trying to defend them.

Unable to help himself, Rowan strode to the figure's head, laying his hand over its eyes and whispering a blessing. Even if it had failed, he was profoundly grateful that someone had cared enough to try. Somewhere in the afterlife, perhaps this man was finally healthy and whole, and at peace.

Passing through the wreckage to the nearby staircase was just as painful and humbling. Spots of dark blood showed the way through it all, leading to a terrible stain at the foot of those stairs. The front door sagged on its hinges, held closed by the remains of a bookcase propped against it. Another strong sense of evil and dread seemed to waft from the door, which Rowan knew must have been branded like so many other doors they had passed by.

The mark of the Shadow Lord. He had heard of it from the Keeper of the Crystal, as a warning to watch for and beware of at all times. He had never planned on seeing it, far away in his hidden village. And now it was here, not a day's sailing away from his homeland. Far too close for comfort.

The four trudged up the stairs in silence, not looking forward to seeing how the rest of the house had been torn apart, but anxious to find the children hiding there. Rowan frowned in thought as he climbed, wondering if he should call out to Zizi in his mind, asking him to come out. He immediately decided against it, still feeling drained from cloaking his whole company for so long. In fact, the short climb up the stairs had winded him a bit.

He shrugged over it, deciding that it didn't matter one way or the other. Zizi knew that they were coming. He and his sister had probably already heard them coming up the stairs. They would meet in a moment or two. What difference did it make?

The second floor common room was in as bad a state as the first, all its doors hanging open and all its furniture smashed. Rowan and Norriss squared their shoulders, trying not to look too hard at the mess, and set off to search those rooms. Behind them, Allun and Marlie went ahead to the third floor, as they had planned, calling the children's names as loudly as they dared.

"Zizi? Vivi? You can come out now."

"Hello? Are there any little ones up here, somewhere?"

The quiet was suddenly pierced by a shriek of joy; and somewhere above them, Rowan and Norriss heard someone be knocked to the floor.

"Forley! You came back! Oh, I _knew_ you'd get out alright – I just knew it! I _told_ Zizi you were too smart for them, but he didn't..."

The thrilled voice of a little girl trailed off, as she must have seen her mistake the way so many others had in the past. The two men dashed to join their friends on the third floor, hearing the child gasp in alarm, and the distinct sound of a blade being drawn.

"You're not my Forley," she shouted angrily. "Who are you? What did you do to him? Where is he? Tell me!"

A comic scene met them at the top of the stairs. It was Allun who had been knocked down, certainly by the ragged, curly-haired little girl who was now brandishing a knife at him. For all her forcefulness, her lip was trembling and the knife was shaking in her hands. Her clever face was shocked and frightened, unsure of what she had just walked into, or who she was looking at.

Hearing his younger friends clattering up the stairs, Allun looked over his shoulder at them and smiled in his good natured way.

"I do believe we've found them," he said brightly, turning back to the girl and holding his hands out in peace. "What is your name, dear? Its Vivi, isn't it?"

Partially forgotten in the shadows, Marlie crept forward to join in him on the floor. "Yes, indeed, it must be. We've heard good thing about you. You're friends with our son, I believe."

The child continued to stare at them, her eyes huge as she processed this. The moment she realized what it meant was plain as day. The knife fell out of her hands, and her face crumpled as she began to sob abysmally. Without warning, she threw herself back into Allun's arms and squeezed him with all her might.

At first, he seemed caught off-guard by her ever-changing mood; but he was no stranger to frightened children, and so he hugged her back right away. "There, there," he whispered. "It's alright."

"No its not," she sobbed, burying her face in his shirt.

"Everything is alright," he insisted. "You're safe now, Vivi. Everything is going to be alright."

"No, its not! It's all got to be really, _really_ bad for _you_ to show up!"

It was a far cry from the person Rowan knew from other people's memories. The Vivi he had heard of was bold and brash and unshakably cheerful enough for ten little girls. He had almost counted on her optimism to greet him, to lift everyone's spirits and move them forward. Seeing her as broken as the rest of her people was just as painful as anything else.

But she was still just as loud as he had expected, and almost as filthy. She was dressed in rags, and the bandages on her knees and elbows were in bad need of changing. Plainly, she had had an adventure of her own, sometime in the long night.

She happened to look up and peer over Allun's shoulder, and notice who had come to join him for the first time. Her pale eyes grew wide again, with that same look of dazzled amazement Ofelia had met them with. For a moment, her mouth hung open in surprise, too shocked to speak.

"It's you!" she squeaked, bouncing with excitement. "You're Rowan of Rin! You really came!"

There was the child he had been prepared to meet, at last. Chuckling at her excitement, he knelt beside her and brushed her tears away. "Did you think I might not?"

At the sound of all the noise, a door across the room inched open and another young face peered out into the dimness. There was only one person it could possibly be. Rowan felt a wave of overjoyed relief come over him. Before he quite knew it, he found himself sprinting to that door and throwing it open, catching the trembling child there in an inescapable embrace.

"You made it," Zizi squeaked. "I was – I didn't know if – I can't believe you're here! You really – you did it!"

"Of course I did. I wouldn't have missed this for anything," Rowan agreed, taking the boy's face in his hands and admiring the sight of his new brother for the first time. In many ways, he looked just like the Hallowed Father. He was no more than 10 years old, but there was hope and eagerness in his face. A willingness to do whatever he could to make things right again, and a great joy to be doing it together.

There was that same dazzled look in his ruby red eyes, too, the same as Ofelia and Vivi had looked before. As if they were all overly excited and a bit frightened to meet him, even though they must have known through his family what kind of man he was. But Zizi was also grinning, beaming like the sun. His brother had promised to come, no matter how impossible it seemed; and Zizi had trusted in that, though it must have been hard at first. Mostly, he seemed glad that the waiting was over, and that they were together, at last.

"So, now we're going to – now you're here, we'll – we'll finish the plan," the boy said firmly. "The plan we all – the others and me, we – we made a plan, just like – like you told us to. Meeth said it was – he said he liked it. He said it was – that it was a good one."

Rowan hufffed as he took Zizi's hand and led him out. "It's not even noon yet, and Mithren's letting you call him that?"

Zizi shrugged. "He told me to."

"Well, he must like you an awful lot, then. He won't let us do that."

Zizi smiled proudly at that, and then sighed a bit. He made a more serious face and squeezed his brother's hand.

"I'm glad you're here, now – real, real glad. But we've still got a lot of – we've got work to do, huh?"

Rowan nodded, sobered by the child's determination. "That is what the Hallowed Father said..."

Zizi nodded back and squared his shoulders. "Okay. I'm ready."


	7. Chapter 6: The Next Steps

_Chapter 6: The Next Steps_

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The heroes led the two children back down to the first floor, carrying more than they had hiked up the stairs with. Clutched carefully in his small hands, Zizi was carrying a spiked, garish-looking crown of silver and gold, covered in sparkling gems that couldn't distract from the obsidian talisman among them. Marlie had a cooing toddler on her hip, and was silently marveling at how many children had been hiding in that closet for so long. They had been guarding a small arsenal there, too: a pair of magic stones, pulsing with power, and the familiar sword Alanis had stolen from her father. Norriss had the stones safe in his pocket, and the sword in his hand, both pleased and saddened to finally return it to its rightful owner.

Meanwhile, Vivi had found the courage to cheer up, or pretend to be cheered up, and was bouncing along between Allun and Marlie, regaling them with tales of the adventures she had shared with their son. Carrying a strange box in her arms, she seemed to be hovering as close to them as possible, nearly clinging to them; she had grown so close to Forley and clearly missed him so much, it wasn't surprising.

When they reached the first floor, they immediately saw Annad in the kitchen doorway, warily watching the street through the main room's broken windows while she waited for them. Seeing them all return at last, she breathed a sigh of relief and beckoned them urgently to join her.

"There you all are," she greeted, smiling at the children who plainly didn't recognize her. "We heard yelling up there, and wondered what you were up to. Hurry into the kitchen. Both of you, go on and meet the rest of us. We don't bite, I promise."

As they shooed the children into the kitchen, Annad grabbed her brother's arm and pulled him aside suddenly.

"I've... Learned a lot, just now," she said in a hushed voice. "Ofelia has calmed down a bit, and she's been very insightful. The whole city has been put on lock down, it seems. That's why it's so quiet, and why the gray monsters are posted on every street corner. They've been given direct orders to attack anything that moves or makes too much noise. We heard all that ruckus upstairs just as Ofelia was explaining it, which is why I've been watching for a sign that someone is coming for us."

Rowan frowned. "How does such an order make its way around such a big city so fast?" he wondered.

"Something about a radio," Annad shrugged. "I don't know what that is, but something 'on' it was 'broadcast', and the whole city learned of it at once. Ofelia saw some people dare to test it on her way to the wall, and..." She grimaced and looked away, refusing to finish.

"Now would be the time for angry people to rise up, raise their voices, and fight back," Rowan agreed, shaking his head. "Zadina wants these people to revel in the rebellion's defeat. She wants them to sit in the silence, and think on what happens to those who defy her will – or, rather, her master's will. She's thought of everything."

A sorrowful silence passed between them as they thought of how awful it all was. Then Annad cleared her throat and showed him something in her hand. It was a thick, leather-bound book, slightly worn with loving use. For half a moment, it reminded Rowan of Star's notebooks. As he looked at it, it reminded him of her more and more. With a pang in his heart, he assumed it must have hers.

"Ofelia brought this with her, intending to show you right away; but then she was distracted with the rest of us, and it slipped her mind," Annad explained, shattering his assumption. "I flipped through it, just now... You will want to take a look at it. See what jumps out at you. I think you'll be surprised."

Wondering very much what it was all about, Rowan flipped to the first page and felt his heart stop.

" _One morning the people of Rin woke to find that the stream that flowed down the Mountain and through their village had slowed to a trickle..."_

He looked up and stared at his sister, unable to believe what he was holding in his hands.

"Annad, this is the book!"

"Yes, I know, I can read."

"And its finished," he went on, flipping farther through it and marveling at how tidy the work was. It must have been done by a legendary printing press, for the lettering was all perfect, exactly the same from page to page, and all the margins were rigidly exact. The pages had been stitched together and bound with amazing skill, perhaps the work of a master craftsman. The cover lacked a title, perhaps out of secrecy; but the leather had been stamped and etched with shapes and beautiful patterns. His whole tale was there, and it was perfect – just the way Star had always dreamed it would be.

"And there are thousands of them," Annad went on, shocking her brother even further. "Thousands exactly like it, all over the city. Star brought it with her and showed it to her friends, who wanted to show it to their friends, who wanted to show it to _their_ friends – you know how it goes. Everyone in Habaharan has read it, or heard it, or otherwise knows your entire story."

Rowan pinned her with a look. "...Come on."

"Ofelia says that your story inspired the rebels to action, and the people with them. She says its the reason why nearly half of the city joined in the first year. I know you dislike it, Rowan, but you have to face it. You're not just famous any more – you're a celebrity. All seven of us are. Its why Ofelia was so shocked to meet us before."

The dazzled look the woman had met them with suddenly made perfect sense. She hadn't just come to find the father of a beloved friend. She hadn't even come expecting to confront a Titan with truly frightening power. She had come to meet a personal hero, who had inspired so much in her, on whom she had pinned all the hope she had left.

And so it would be, he realized, with every Zebak who happened to see him while he was there. Aside from his pale skin and brown eyes standing out among them, many of them knew and loved his daughter, who still looked just like him. They would know him at once, and run in masses to him for comfort and help. He hated standing out and drawing attention to himself on the best days. The thought of thousands of beaten, desperate people flocking after him suddenly terrified him more than anything else.

Seeing the anxiety in his eyes for what it was, Annad smiled and punched his arm. "On the positive side, you've already inspired the Zebak to great things, and you weren't even here. Think of what they could do, once they realize you _are_ here! And with a shiny new Titan of their own for them, too. Not to mention what they will do when they find out that Allun is back; I've heard he is something of a favorite, maybe even more famous than you, if its possible."

She placed a hand on his shoulder and faced him seriously. "We left Rin with a clear mission, and its changed and changed again since then. Perhaps it is changing once more. We came to rescue our family, but I believe that our presence alone could help turn the tide of this fight. One man with a stone in hand and nothing left to lose can still win the day, if he has a reason."

That was an uplifting idea. "These people certainly don't have much left to be lost. Let's give them a reason, if we can."

Satisfied with that, they turned back into the kitchen. Then it was Rowan's turn to grab his sister by the arm, stopping her in her tracks.

"Let's not tell John, just yet," he suggested. "He's already at his wits end with all these changes in plan. He will smack us both."

"Well, obviously," she agreed. Plainly, she had never planned on telling their step-father anything until it was too late to go back.

In the kitchen, the whole gathering had clustered around the battered table to watch in fascination as Ofelia fiddled with the box Vivi had brought. She was turning metal knobs and pressing tiny buttons, and an irritating, crackling sound was humming out of it. Ofelia was frowning over it, and Vivi was looking disappointed.

"You see? It's busted," the girl was saying. "It's been doing that for hours."

Zizi wilted against her. "I wish Leah was – I wish she was here," he sniffled. "She'd know how to – she'd know what to do. She'd fix it."

" _Ane_ , not busted," Ofelia insisted. "The signals are all down. The towers are all dead. We're not getting any news at this rate. There's no news, anyway; it's all the same..."

The woman huffed in sad annoyance and shoved the thing away, running her fingers through her hair in frustration. "We will leave it on, for now. When we get a signal again, we will know right away. For now, all we get is this. _Ishk_..."

The crackling noise went on and on from the box, setting everyone's teeth on edge. With some reluctance, Ofelia turned another knob and the noise suddenly became less, though it didn't go away completely. His eyes wide, Norriss picked it up and turned it all over, trying to figure it out.

"What is this thing, anyway?" he wondered. "What does it do, exactly, aside from make that awful noise?"

" _Ane, ane,_ leave that be," Ofelia said briskly, waving away his curiosity. "It doesn't matter now. So... Here you are, in our city – which _is_ busted, by the way. What happens next? Where is your plan? Please tell me you know what you will do next."

The seven looked between themselves, with far more uncertainty than their hosts would have liked.

"We had a plan when we left our village," John grumbled, glancing at his step-children. "It was formed in an hour's haste; but for what it was, it was a good and reasonable one. I'm afraid it changed the moment we landed on your shores."

"So much the better," Shaaran interrupted before he could go on complaining. "Our only clear goal in the first place was to find Zizi, which we have done. It was the only thing we knew for sure we could do, because he could lead us. Everything else we meant to do had to come later."

Now John turned to stare at her, perhaps marveling at how the small, slim woman was so good at arguing with him today. "I don't recall any of us agreeing on that. Our goal was to find and free our family."

Norriss snorted and set the radio aside. "And how had you planned to do that, when we had no map, no guide, and no knowledge of this city? We know where our family is, certainly – they are in the Central Dungeon, decidedly one of the worst places in this city to be. But we don't know where that is, or how to get there, or how to get inside if we do manage to find it."

"Surely," Marlie continued, "you hadn't planned to run around in broad daylight hoping to just chance across the place. That would be absurd, even if there weren't monsters posted on every corner. Focus is one thing, John, and we are all impatient just now; but blind force won't help us here."

Vivi tapped her arm, beaming with an idea. "If its a map you need, I've got tons of them," she supplied. "I borrowed whole bunches of books from the library, full of maps and all kinds of stuff. I'm pretty sure I copied _all_ of them, when I made my brilliant plan. And they all survived! I've got them upstairs. I'll share with you, if you want."

Marlie smiled back and clasped the girl's hand. "We would like that very much. Thank you, Vivi."

Without excusing herself, Vivi sprinted back the way she had come and could be heard clattering back up the stairs. It was good to see her back to her usual self; but the silence she left behind was uneasy, and Rowan didn't care for it. As he looked over his friends, they were still upset and refusing to look at each other. Zizi had shrunk nervously against him, and Ofelia was drumming her fingers on the table.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you like this," he said slowly to his new friends. "I know you must have been expecting wonders, or at least something a little more organized."

Ofelia shrugged listlessly. "I don't know what I was expecting," she answered. "Knowing you cared enough to come at all was enough for me. If anyone should be sorry, it is me."

Allun shook his head and sat beside her. "Don't say that, good woman. None of this is your fault. Anyway, we are unused to having real plans. We usually just figure things out as we go along, one step at a time. It's always a closer call than we would like, but we always pull through in the end. Isn't that right, friends?"

While the rest of them hummed over that truth, Ofelia nodded in understanding. "Yes, I've seen that. Not like my Zamiel, not at all. He makes all his plans in the beginning, only for his brother and your son to blast it to pieces. Oh, he hates it when they do that... But they always pull through, just like you."

Rowan felt Zizi nudging him, and looked down to find him making a face. "What about our – the plan _we_ made? The brothers and me? We made a – we made a plan, too. You told us to! What about our plan?"

"Ah, yes, I did ask the three of you to do that, didn't I," Rowan agreed. "In all the excitement, it slipped my mind a bit. Go on, Zizi, tell us what you lot have come up with."

"Well, it's kind of – a little bit my idea. But Doss said we should – "

Rowan had to hold up his hand to stop the child. "The Keeper," he corrected. "You have to call him the Keeper with other people."

Zizi tilted his head to one side. "Why?"

"It's just the way it must be done."

"That's dumb."

"Zizi, just tell us the plan."

The boy pouted a bit and said, "The _Keeper_ said he liked – he liked my idea with the – with the pirates. That they could – they can help us. He said he was sure – real sure. He says you've got to – you have to go right there and – you've got to meet them. Keids will like you. He'll help you."

"That could be difficult, Zizi. Hopefully, we'll have our family and yours with us by the time we leave the dungeon, and the pirates' den is a long way from there. I don't know if we can hide so many people for so long."

"Oh, you don't – you don't have to. There's a way from there. From the dungeon. On the inside."

"...Is that so?"

"It sure is. Vivi showed me. It's in her – she's got a map. She found it in her books when she was – she was making a plan to go in the – inside the palace. She said it's funny, 'cause we didn't – it was right there all the – the whole time I was there, and we didn't even – we had no idea. And she laughed and laughed, but Zan was just – he was so mad."

That was one problem solved. Rowan couldn't help laughing, himself. "I suppose I would be mad, too. Well, then, if the Titan of Water feels so strongly about these pirates, I don't see how we have much of a choice."

"It will be a warm welcome, too, I shouldn't wonder," Allun agreed. "From what we understand, their leader is something of an admirer of ours. I can't imagine we'd have to beat his door down trying to get in."

"That is all good and well," John said tensely. "But while we are so keen on maps and guides, how will we find our way to his den once we are down there? Above ground or below, its still a long journey with a large company, and we know those sewers less than we know the city streets."

To this, Marlie puffed out her chest with great pride. "Forley has been there numerous times. Vivi said he makes the journey often and knows the way as well as she does. Once you get him back, he will be your guide."

"Perhaps. What if we can't get him back?"

Marlie's face darkened at once. She looked ready to strangle him, and Rowan couldn't be sure if he would stop her or not.

"Then we will bring one of Vivi's maps with us, or else ask for directions," he cut in before they could start fighting. "And you will not speak a word to anyone, if I can help it. Why on earth would you say something like that at a time like this?"

And so everyone was enormously relieved that Vivi came running back into the kitchen, her arms loaded with stacks and rolls of loose paper.

"I'm back, and I brought my maps," she announced, dumping the load onto the table. "Every single one of them. Just look at them all! Each one, a work of art. There's got to be something here you can use."

The whole gathering began leafing through the papers, amazed at how much information they suddenly had. Every map appeared to have been traced exactly from a page in a book, with Vivi's badly written notes to herself in the margins. While Rowan searched for a map of the Central Dungeon, he watched his sister snatch a stack of papers and flip through them with an appetite.

"Oh, this is a gold mine," she sang to herself, sitting down to study those papers properly. "Now we can get down to business."

Whatever she saw in that stack, the maps mostly looked alike to Rowan. He had no idea what he was looking at, one to the next. And it was clear that the others were having about as much luck making sense of it all. After another moment of sorting uselessly through all them, Shaaran set a few aside in a tidy stack and waved for Vivi's attention.

"Zizi mentioned one map in particular," she said. "One of the Central Dungeon, with a way into the sewers. He said you showed him once. Is it here?"

"Oh, that one. Why didn't you say so?" Vivi answered, picking a rolled parchment out of the pile and handing it to Marlie. "It's right here. Oh, I'd know it anywhere. You can see where Zan crumpled it up and threw it at the wall, see?"

With one hand, Marlie unrolled the battered paper and held it up for the rest to see. It showed a maze of corridors, prison cells, and doorways leading upward to the first floor of the palace. In each of the top corners and in the middle of dungeon's main hallway, a tiny symbol had been circled several times and surrounded by exclamation points.

"You see that?" Vivi said, pointing to the symbols. "Those are manholes. They lead down into the sewers from the street. I had no idea they were in the dungeon, too. Don't ask me why they're there, okay? It seems dumb to me. It's a perfect escape!"

"Indeed, it is," Marlie agreed. "More perfect than anyone could ever have guessed. Do you have maps of the sewers, too?"

Vivi looked at her quizzically and shrugged. "Why would I need that?"

Marie frowned and rolled the map up again – only to turn sharply and smack John over the head with it.

"Now you see, you _must_ get my son back," she scolded as he shrank away in shame. "You must find him, or else you will have no guide, and you will be lost forever in that reeking maze, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

"Yeah, you'd better bring Forley back," Vivi agreed, ferocious at the idea that he might not. "If you don't, I'll have to bite you."

Marlie huffed and glanced at the girl with great approval. "I think we will both have to bite him, then."

For a moment, Vivi looked surprised. Then a devilish grin spread over her face, and deep admiration sparkled in her eyes. "I like you."

"I think I can piece together a route to the place from here," Annad said without looking up from her own stack of maps. "If I look hard at some of these, I can see where the streets connect. Vivi, why so many maps of the city, exactly? Surely, you know these streets as well as anyone else around here."

"I just needed to double check, I guess," the girl answered carelessly. "Most of the sewers match the streets, but some of them don't. And I had to find the tunnels that led under the palace, so I could sneak in and out. I had to be extra special careful last night, like the Crusaders and the squad taught me."

It was enough to tear Annad's gaze from her maps, and she smiled. "Then they will be very proud of you, I think. And its certainly a blessing to us now. The problem of finding our way around has been nagging at me from the beginning, but we all knew there was no way to deal with that until much later. I had expected to have to hunt for books and charts; and if I'm honest, the time and caution I thought it would take worried me terribly. I can't even tell you how much time you've saved us, Vivi. The difference its made could save countless lives."

Vivi blinked in amazement, then furrowed her brow at the floor in thought. Rowan still wasn't completely sure what she had planned so carefully for – an adventure of some sort, he had heard, but no one had stopped to explain it. Time had been so short and the mission so urgent, Zizi hadn't even mentioned it. However, as he pieced what little he did know together, it began to come into focus. An adventure. Maps showing the way to the palace. Zizi's sudden possession of the diadem.

It was all connected, he realized. For whatever reason, Vivi's original intent had been to steal the diadem. A frightening objective for anyone, and normally impossible. And she had succeeded, somehow, though she certainly hadn't planned for it all to end quite like this. Not only had her thoroughness and utter madness given the Zebak a true Titan again, it had given others the means to help them.

Perhaps it had begun as selfishness, from her instincts as a former thief to rob the rich of their valuables. Perhaps she had been trying to prove herself somehow, to the pirates who had raised her, or to the new family who doted on her. Seeing what sort of person she was, perhaps she had simply craved a challenge and a load of mischief. Perhaps it had been a little of all those reasons at once. Whatever it had been, it had certainly never crossed her mind that all her hard work could be used by her heroes to rescue other people. It was no wonder she looked so humbled, all at once.

The idea cheered Rowan greatly, and he smiled to himself. _And here I was, thinking I was supposed to do something amazing,_ he thought. _If not for Vivi and her maps, there wouldn't be much we could do at all. Zizi would never have become Titan, and there would have been no one to reach out to us in the first place. If anyone has saved these people, it might be this ragged little girl from the slums._

And so it was that the whole gathering began pouring through the maps once again, this time with a clear purpose. There were so many maps, it would have been senseless to try and bring them all. Ofelia had pulled the broken stub of a stylus from her pocket to scribble directions on the back of the map of the Central Dungeon, perhaps the most important of all. Putting the maps of the city in their proper places, the fastest way to the dungeon was slowly picked out and written down on the only one worth bringing along.

"Cella Way, Hazel Street, Flora Avenue," Annad read from those directions. "All the streets are named like this. Is it like this for the whole city?"

Ofelia raised an eyebrow at her. "Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be?" Then her golden eyes widened in understanding. "Your people don't do that?"

Norriss shook his head. "I've been trying to convince them to do so for years. Every other year or so I bring it up again; if our village keeps growing as it is, it will eventually become necessary. But they are so used to learning our streets by memory, as they have done for nearly four hundred years, and can't see the use of it. Mostly, they just laugh at me."

"Afraid of anything different, as always," his wife added, disgusted and annoyed. "'What devilry is such nonsense?'" she continued, mocking her own countrymen. "'Oh, the Zebak do that. It must be an evil virus of the dark arts! It will bring us to ruin! Let us never change a single thing, ever!'"

"Your impression of Bronden is coming along swimmingly, dear," Allun laughed, looking over the completed directions. "All that said, it appears that our course has been laid neatly at our feet. We are all armed and supplied as best we can possibly be, just now. The dungeon itself will have to be dealt with one step at a time, but the map of the place is straightforward enough. We have our escape route, and – all being well – we will be able to find our way to the pirates' den easily. It would seem that everything is on order. What's left?"

"The matter of our navigating the streets safely," John answered right away. "Rowan, are you well enough to cloak us again?"

"I think so, if I could find a few minutes to sit and rest," he said slowly, thinking it over carefully. "But not invisibility and silence both. It will have to be one or the other, this time. And..."

He looked over his companions, considered his own strength, and sighed heavily. "I can't keep so many people hidden for so long, and still be strong enough to face the dungeon. I don't think I can handle more than four of us for this mission."

His six companions looked between each other, seeing that a difficult decision would have to be made. They didn't like having to separate like this, when they had expected to be together through thick and thin. But Allun straightened himself and held out his hands in peace.

"It is probably for the best," he said evenly. "A small party can go faster and more quietly, and ours is doomed to become large quickly. And let's not forget the power of fours in the past. We've always been most effective in that number. It only makes sense that we travel as four today."

"So it comes to this again," Norriss agreed. "Then all that's left is to decide who goes and who stays."

"I will stay," Shaaran volunteered, nearly before her brother had finished speaking. "I've never been much of a fighter, and would only slow you down. And my only weapon is a bow; I can't imagine it will be of much use at such close range."

Marlie hummed at this, glancing at the bow over her own shoulder, and hoisted the toddler more comfortably on her hip. "In that case, I should stay, also. Besides, there are small children here who need looking after. It isn't fair to leave you and Ofelia to keep them out of trouble by yourselves."

Shaaran and Ofelia didn't appear to have considered this; but thinking of it, they looked very relieved. Vivi and Zizi both seemed to appreciate the woman's trusty presence. The toddler had nothing to add, simply yawning and resting his head on her shoulder.

Rowan looked at Annad, who was still pouring over the maps even though their directions were written down. She was tracing the streets with her finger and pointing out landmarks to herself, and didn't seem to be paying attention to their discussion at all. He knew her better than that, though, and could tell that she was thinking hard.

"What are you thinking about, sister?" he asked.

"I'm thinking exactly what I said before: these maps are a gold mine," she said. "Here in the slums, the debris could be set up to form a sturdy barricade. Over here, there's a reasonable high ground, a sensible place for a last stand. And over here, near the wall, there are cannons and ammunition."

She looked up slowly and faced him with regret in her eyes. "This makes sense to me, Rowan. I could do something with all this, but I need more time to put it together. I wish I could go with you, into glorious battle, to free and rescue these people as I've always wanted to... But I'm needed here."

He couldn't imagine how it must have pained her to admit this. He supposed she felt that she was letting him down, somehow. He reached across the table and gripped her hand in his.

"If you are needed here, then you should be here. Stay and do something with all this, then. We can all come home to the next step of the plan ready and waiting for us. Thank you."

She squeezed his hand and smiled faintly. It was only a small gesture, but he could see that a burden had been lifted from her.

"And that would seem to leave the four of us," he concluded, not at all displeased to find himself left with John, Norriss, and Allun. Three of the people he was closest to and trusted most. The three of them didn't look unhappy about this arrangement, either. Deep magic, a cool head, an understanding of foreign ways, and a strong arm. They made a good team for this mission.

"In that case, we have little time to lose," Allun decided. "Let's see about being ready to go. Rowan, sit and rest, as you said. Eat something and drink some water, for goodness' sake. It won't do to have you fainting on us."

Glad to be excused, Rowan retreated to a corner of the kitchen to sit in silence for a moment. He hadn't quite realized how drained he already was until he had sat down and settled himself. The relief of being off his feet at last was incredible. Just as he was closing his eyes to think on his breathing, he found Zizi standing over him, holding out a cup of water and a piece of bread.

"Your sister said – she said to have this. She said you – you almost forgot."

Smiling his thanks, he took the offering and nodded for the boy to sit with him. "And I would have, if she didn't look after me like she does. While we still have a few minutes, I want to teach you something important."

"But you're so – you're so busy," Zizi insisted, plunking himself down beside him.

"It won't take a minute. I'm going to teach you how to meditate. It's a very simple practice, and it will help you recover your own strength. You've worked hard, for your first morning as a Titan; you must be exhausted."

Zizi fidgeted a bit, looking sheepish. "No, I'm not – I mean – I guess. Maybe. A little. Maybe a lot."

"Then this will help a great deal. Settle yourself comfortably, now, and sit up straight and tall. You can rest against the wall, if it helps. Keep your shoulders back and down, without forcing them. Never use force, just be as easeful as you can."

"Like this?" the boy asked, doing as he had been instructed.

"Absolutely. Think about your collar bones separating, and your shoulder blades sliding down your back. Does that help?"

Zizi thought about it, and his face lit up in amazement. "It does! It feels right, now!"

"Good. It helped me, too, when I was first learning. Let your hands rest of your knees; it can help you remember to sit straight. And now, just begin to breathe. Deep, full breaths, counting to four. Then deep breaths out, counting to six, if you can."

"What if I can't?"

"Then just count to four. Whatever feels comfortable right now. Close your eyes, and start to notice how it feels. Bring your focus to the breath, and the counting. Pretty soon, you won't even need to count anymore; it will just come naturally."

"What am I – am I thinking about anything?"

"Not really. Just notice your breath, and your body, and how it all feels. After you get used to it, try thinking on something that inspires you. A word, or a virtue, or an image. Let that idea fill your mind, as the breath fills your body, and let yourself feel good about it. Let yourself draw courage and strength from it. And just rest in that quietness for a time. It seems silly at first, like nothing so simple could really do so much good; and it can take some practice to quiet yourself and be still like that. You'll be surprised how much good it does."

"How long do we – do have to sit and – do we do it all day long?"

"Usually not. Sometimes, all it takes is a few minutes. Often, I find its just the intention of clearing a peaceful space for yourself."

"Like right now?"

"Just like right now."

Zizi seemed to be satisfied with that, and grew silent as he tried to put all that instruction together. His breaths became deep and even, though his counting was a little faster than Rowan would have liked. He decided not to correct the boy on his first try, and quickly found that he didn't have to. After a moment of sitting in silence together, Zizi had slowed his breathing to match his brother's, and a strong sense of powerful energy was pulsing gently between them. In all this chaos, they had both found a great sense of peace to rest and recover in.

Rowan wondered if Zizi had taken his advice to mediate on something that inspired him, or if he was listening to what was going on in the room around them. His eyes were closed, but Rowan could hear his family moving around, shuffling papers on the table, rummaging through their supplies, and saying their goodbyes to one another. Annad and Ofelia were quietly discussing the city's layout. Shaaran was insisting that her brother take some of her things, since she wouldn't be needing them. Vivi was attempting to explain something called magicites to John, and telling him to return them to Alanis and Forley when he found them. She was also reminding him of what would happen should he return without them, and he graciously chose not to argue with her over it.

Closer to him than the rest were Allun and Marlie, ignoring their fears for each other by playing with the toddler whose name still hadn't been mentioned in all their haste.

"A sturdy little fellow, to be sure," Allun was remarking. "And handsome, too. I wonder where he came from?"

"I was wondering the same thing," his wife agreed. "I had suspected at first that he might be Ofelia's, and that Zamiel Garased must be his father. That perhaps she had brought and left him here with the other children, where he would be safe. But she hasn't reached to take him once, and he hasn't been interested in her at all, and so now I'm not so sure."

"Maybe he is another orphan, rescued from the slums, or perhaps from the pirates' den. It must have happened since Iris was here; she carried no memories of him. Our own children could be taking care of him, themselves. It's a nice thought..."

Rowan wondered vaguely about it, too, but decided to think on it later. Whoever the child belonged to and whatever his story was, what really mattered was that he had survived the night and was safe. Beside him, though, he felt Zizi shift slightly at each of his friends' suggestions, and he knew at once that each one was wrong. In fact, even though he couldn't see him, the flow of energy surrounding the boy suddenly felt a bit guilty.

Surely, they would all know the full truth in due course. For now, time was still short, and there was still much to be done. Who even knew when this new party of four would return, or who they would return with? Who even knew when there would be a chance to really rest again? This peaceful moment was precious, and had to be made the best of.

So Rowan turned his gaze inward, shut out the voices of his friends and family, and focused all this thought on the best idea he could think of:

 _Praisea._

Hope.

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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Everything Rowan just explained about mediation is 100% true and real. Mother became a yoga teacher last year, and so I've learned a lot about it and might become a teacher, myself. The thing about the collar bones and shoulder blades is by far the best advice on good yogic posture I've learned so far, and it immediately upped my game. So, if you practice or have ever thought about practicing yoga, give it a shot. Just stop whatever you're doing and do it right now. You won't believe how much easier it is to breathe!

Point being: if you get even marginally good at yoga, you, too, can be a Titan. And a Jedi. And a better follower of Christ. Maybe especially a Jedi. Yoga is just everything.

I hope you enjoyed this brief moment of peace and comedic relief. The dungeon is up next! Maybe Star will make it back into her own story...


	8. Chapter 7: The Dungeon

_Chapter 7: The Dungeon_

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It was impossible to say that leaving their family or new friends behind was easy. There were so fewer resources between them, now. So fewer heads and points of view to think things through, the way Rowan had learned it was best. He already missed his sister's eye for strategy, and Marlie's motherly wisdom, and Zizi's unshakable faith.

All of that would have been a blessing, as he crept unseen with Allun, John, and Norriss through the ruined city. It was still as silent as a graveyard, with the streets deserted and the windows of the battered buildings dark. Every now and again they would sneak past a corner where a stone-faced guard in gray clothes loomed like a tombstone over the lifeless bodies of people who had dared defy the Dragon Lord in the last few hours. A terrible chill and a feeling of enraged helplessness swept over the four of them every time they passed such a sight; and it happened again, and again, and again.

Achingly, Rowan wondered if the famous bells of Habaharan had rung this morning to herald the dawn, as they had for centuries; or if they had sat silent with the rest of the city for the first time in an age. He wondered if there was anyone left alive to ring them. He wondered if the city's survivors had noticed, one way or another, if its ringing had comforted them or its silence had wounded them, or if they had even cared.

He held the map in his hands, guiding the way, as he had found himself doing since his childhood. Behind him, his friends were gripping his arms and shoulders, sharing his deep magic as he cloaked them. Through their touch, he felt the urge to cry out in alarm and anger rise in them many times, as they passed sight after awful sight; he felt them fight those urges heroically each time, very aware that making any noise now would be fatal. It had been quickly agreed that if he could only spare one power for now, invisibility would be best for this part of their mission. They could keep silent on their own with little trouble, they had reasoned. None of them had guessed how difficult that would prove to be.

But the way Annad and Ofelia had chosen for them was true enough, and they found themselves traveling steadily uphill. For a short time, it seemed as though they were marching toward the palace, itself. The buildings became grander, the farther they went, many with pillars framing their doors and intricately carved panels adorning the windows. Signs of heavy fire were scorched into the walls, though, and splintered wood and glass still littered the streets. More and more doors had been smashed in, marked with the brand of Shadow Lord as they sagged on their hinges.

Clearly, wealthy folk who had happily served the queen lived in this part of the city. Merchants, bankers, and other successful businessmen and women who had been able to pay their taxes on time, and perhaps buy their own people at market to do their busywork for them. People who had fancied themselves to be safe from the queen's wrath. How many of them had survived the night? How many of their children, or the people they had owned had survived? Where were they, now?

Sometimes, they passed a door with the Shadow Lord's brand upon it, burned into place over another sign – an emblem of a grach with its wings spread wide, the symbol the Zebak were best known by. It could only mean that someone of Central Control had lived there. They must have been generals, or other high-ranking officials, to afford homes like these. And now they were trapped in the Central Dungeon with all the rest, being tortured and slaughtered with as little thought as any other officer. They were strangely equal now.

Rowan found himself wondering furiously what those generals must be thinking at that very moment. Did they feel as betrayed as they were? Did they blame the leader they had followed like the morning star? Did they regret their actions in the past? Did they long for vengeance and justice? Or did they just long for a chance to prove their loyalty to her, and regain their status and fine belongings? He understood that such men and women were renowned for their cruelty and selfishness; but his own experience had taught him that even the most wayward soul could still see the truth and find the light again. He prayed that these souls had done just that, in the long night.

In any case, their strength and knowledge would be extremely helpful, if they were willing to lend it. Perhaps the bitter betrayal of their queen would encourage them to rise up against her. Maybe they would even be glad to see him suddenly among them. Certainly, they all knew who he was. With a start, he saw that there were only two ways such a meeting in the Central Dungeon could go:

They would either rally around him, or try with all their might to destroy him. The thousands of lower officers with the rebellion would join him at once, he knew. For the generals they served, however, there would be no in-between. From here, there was no telling what they would do.

All he could do was hope that what remained of Central Control would give him little trouble. And he would still have to find his missing family members in all that mess, or at least try to learn what had become of them. A little help from the survivors would be nice...

Finally, they turned the last corner written in their directions. That last turn had simply come just last, with no further instruction following it, and it was immediately clear why. They were suddenly standing in the middle of one of the city's broadest avenues, leading dead ahead, to one of the most imposing sights the Zebak lands had to offer. Set into the palace' lowest foundations, the only gate to the Central Dungeon gaped like a mouth, flanked by a pair of guards like all the rest. Between the two, the entrance had no door, no bars, no barrier of any kind; it was like a black pit leading into nothingness. But Rowan could see that blackness almost shimmering with a dark energy, and knew that something much more than a simple door was sealing the dungeon shut.

He knew that his companions knew this, too. He could feel them slowly recalling something of it from Iris' memories. They had never seen this place for themselves; but it was somehow familiar to them, as was the magic that guarded it, and how it could be undone. He felt Allun indulge in a surge of determination and pride, as he recalled that his own son had done this very thing before.

The son who he had secretly feared was too full of fancies and mischief to amount to anything. The son who had grown to real manhood in this city, doing great things for its people. The son who was now trapped in this dungeon for it, and likely not regretting one second of it.

Still, there was a barrier of dark magic blocking their way, and the pair of guards to contend with. He felt his friends balking at it all, unsure what to do next. He allowed a wave of earthen calmness from his own heart to flood them, and hushed them as loudly as he dared.

"We can do this," he whispered. "We've seen how it can be done, and they still cannot see us. This will be easy."

Indeed, as they began easing closer to the gate, Rowan was sure that this would be the easiest part of their whole mission. Each of them was reaching for the knives on their belts – small, useful tools which all Rinfolk were used to carrying, and used multiple times a day in mundane ways. They weren't much in combat; but in this instance, it was all they really needed. Even John was unsheathing his knife, rather than his much-missed sword.

Faster than they could believe, they were in striking distance of the guards. As soon as they were close enough, one of the pair frowned and glanced around warily, readying the lance in his hand.

"Did you hear something, three?" he asked the other, who also glanced around and ultimately shrugged.

"It's nothing, two," he answered gruffly. "Some mangey mutt in an alley, no doubt. Certainly not a tick, or anything like one. Just look around – there's nothing here."

"I don't know... We should take a look, just to be sure."

"Stay at your post, two. It's nothing, as I said."

That seemed as good a moment as any to attack and prove the guard wrong. Without being asked, Norriss and Allun darted out of their magical cloak and sank their knives into the guards' chests. Before the pair could fight back or even cry out in alarm, their beings seemed to dissolve in a puff of murky gray smoke and evaporate. In short seconds, their empty uniforms collapsed in a heap at the heroes' feet, leaving the four staring in amazement.

"Well," Allun quipped as he re-sheathed his knife, "that was easy. And awfully unpleasant."

"Surely, it won't go unnoticed for long," Norriss commented, glaring with distaste at those empty uniforms. "Rowan, can you open the door?"

"Maybe," he answered slowly, looking over the barrier and assessing it as best he could. It was of dark magic, certainly, but there was a strong sense of Fire among it. He knew at once that his earthen magic, weak against Fire, would do little good against it.

"Where is that moonstone?" he asked. "The power of element Air would be more useful here; and I believe Forley opened the door that way before."

"Yes, but how did he do it?" Norriss asked as he dug in his pocket for the stone.

"I suspect he just used it to will the door open," Rowan answered with a shrug. "Air is easy enough to manipulate, in that way. Hand the stone to Allun. He can do it, I think."

Norriss did as he was told without question; but Allun took the moonstone and its fine web of chain in his hand and stared at it doubtfully.

"I don't know what to do with this," he protested. "And... Forley had a lot more practice with it."

"That's the beauty of it," Rowan insisted. "Air takes next to no practice to master, and it is your element. Just ask the stone to open the door. Try it. You'll surprise yourself."

Allun still looked unsure of himself; but he knew better than to doubt Rowan's knowledge of deep magic. So he gripped the stone tight and frowned at the shimmering barrier, concentrating on it with all his might. The barrier seemed to ripple like water, all at once; then it blinked in and out, revealing flashes of dim light beyond it. At last, it vanished completely, and a shadowy corridor appeared before them.

It would have been more amazing, if not for the shrieking wails that came with it. The barrier had shielded everything from the outside world, it seemed. Now that it had been lifted, it felt like a wall of desperate cries had flooded into the silent street. The voices of men, women, and children mingled together in it, screaming in anger, fear, and terrible pain.

And the only way forward was directly into it.

The din was grating on his heart, but Rowan squared his shoulders and marched through the open gate with all the courage he could muster. Not knowing what welcome he might receive was frightening, but he had to start somewhere. Also frightened by the noise, and perhaps seeing the situation in a whole new light, his friends ran after him into the dungeon. Beside him, still marveling at the power he now held in his hand, Allun was slipping his fingers into the web of chain around the moonstone. Now that he saw the he could use it, he plainly didn't intend to let it go.

"And here we are," John shouted over the noise. "Now we follow the map through the corridors, find our people, and get out."

The rest of them stared aghast at him, unable to believe his narrow-mindedness.

"How can you say that?" Norriss demanded. "Look around you! Listen to these people! We can't leave them here to die!'

"Its impossible," John shouted back. "There are thousands of people in these cells! Rescuing all of them would be madness! Finding our own will be hard enough!"

"Have you learned nothing since coming here?" Allun demanded. "Have you not seen this place? Have you not heard its people? How can you still not understand this?"

And while the three of them went on fighting, Rowan heard the tide of pleading voices begin to change. The prisoners could hear newcomers arguing in the corridor, just out of their sight. Arguing plainly of missions and finding people, and who should be saved and left behind. They could hear that someone had breached the dungeon, against all odds. The nearest voices had ceased to wail in sorrow. All around him, more and more voices were begging for rescue. To not be left behind. Some were calling out names, blindly hoping that someone they knew and loved had come to find them.

The screaming, clamoring voices around him were like a gale. It was like his compassion and need to care for all people was being torn in all directions, lost in a terrible whirlwind. His friends were too busy yelling at each other to notice when he clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the storm.

And finally, Rowan could bear it no longer. For the first time in a long time, he felt the tremendous power of his own magic overwhelm him. For once, he snapped, and made no move to control himself.

" _STOP!"_

All at once, it was very still. It had only been one simple word, screamed at the top of his lungs; but it had nearly drained him of strength. Numbly, he realized that he had silenced half the dungeon, including some of his own companions. It hardly surprised him that he began to topple over, drained of his strength. He found sturdy, wiry arms around him, catching him before he hit his head. The world was spinning, and just a few voices were echoing distantly in his ears.

There was Allun's voice, trustworthy as ever, speaking soothingly and insisting that everything was alright. There was an unfamiliar voice nearby, demanding to know who was there. Another unfamiliar voice, commanding them to show themselves. A few others, sobbing in fear, calling out to others around them, and crying out to find that they were the only ones left with a voice.

"I'm sorry," he croaked. "I didn't mean it..."

"It's fine," Allun said evenly, reaching for his own flask and handing it over. "And it's probably better this way. Can you stand?"

Shaking his head, Rowan snatched the flask and tore off the cap. He drank deeply, and the world around him slowly came back into focus. It seemed a poor way to begin this step of the mission, when it had gone so well thus far. At least the storm had passed. With only a few voices left, he could actually hear what was being said. And he understood that such a burst of raw power could only last for so long.

The silence he had cast on these cells would pass, shortly. He tried to pull himself back together, determined to make the best of this lull in the storm.

"Who are they?" Allun asked. "The people who escaped your spell? Did you do it on purpose?"

Rowan shook his head again as he staggered to his feet. "Fire elements," he gasped. "Strong against my magic. Maybe strongest of all. One is nearby. That way. We need to speak to him."

A man's voice was still demanding them to show themselves, down a corridor to their right. Something about his voice stood out from the others in Rowan's mind. There was something in it that he liked, that made him want to see the face that went with it. There was a feeling of rightness about it. More than willing to let his heart lead him, he stumbled down the corridor, glad to have one of his oldest friends supporting him. Effected by the silence, John and Norris followed them slowly, terribly ashamed of themselves.

The badly lit corridor was filled with prison cells, each one packed tightly with captives. Strangely, they all appeared to be in grand attire. The men were all in handsome suits, and many of the women were in wide, expensive gowns. Some of the women had clearly cast aside their gowns some time ago, left milling self-consciously in their underthings. All of them looked terrified, and even more so to have suddenly lost their voices. They were looking to each other in pure horror, their mouths moving and soundlessly forming words. The youngest people among them were so frightened that they had burst into tears. Again, perhaps.

And all their beautifully colored eyes were wide, all at once, to see who was coming down the corridor. A band of pale, unmarked folk, walking freely through the most dangerous place they could think of. Surely, they were all guessing at who they must be looking at. They were all amazed, gasping in shock. But none to be seen was speaking.

"Where are you?" Rowan called out as best he could.

"Over here," came the voice he had been following. Down the rows of cells, a hand thrust itself between the bars that held it back. "Whoever you are, come! Quickly!"

The four companions hurried down the rows, finally finding themselves face-to-face with a man unlike the rest. Rather than a good suit, he wore a long, white coat, and had a pair of thick, badly cracked spectacles on his fine nose. He was skinny and weirdly pale, compared to the people around him. Aside from the obvious mark on his face, he didn't look Zebak at all.

"Who are you?" Rowan asked at once, surprised by who he had been led to.

The man squinted through his spectacles, holding them high and then low, trying to see him better. "Barret," he answered. "Doctor Halek Barret, of the royal laboratories. Who on earth are you, young man?"

He couldn't help cringing a bit, knowing very well what would happen next.

"I don't suppose the name, Rowan of Rin, would mean anything to you?" he asked slowly.

All around him, the silent people gasped in amazement. They still couldn't speak out loud; but Rowan could feel tremendous hope and relief filling them as the realized what he meant. The skinny man before him seemed to take a moment to to understand; but his pale eyes quickly grew wide, filling with quiet admiration.

"Ah. I see," he said plainly, holding his hands respectfully behind his back. His cell mates were clustering around him now, awed that he was the only one of them who was able to speak plainly to their hero. But Halek Barret stood resolute among them, unbothered by their desperate jostling and demands for attention. It was clear that he was a man of sense and reason, and difficult to move in any situation.

No wonder Rowan had felt so drawn toward him. This was the sort of person they all needed, just now. He drew himself straighter, determined to stand before this man on his own feet.

"I think there is a way to free all the prisoners from this dungeon," he announced, mostly to Halek Barret. "We have a map that shows the first part of the way, and we will gladly share it with you. But we still need a way to open these cells, and we must find our own people in them. Can you help us?"

The man's eyes grew even wider, and several ideas seemed to flash across them.

"I can, in fact," he said. "They redid the fixtures in this infernal trap many years ago; as a lad, I helped with the designs. If you don't mind my saying, my lord, it's peeved me to know this dungeon's secrets, but have no way to use them all."

Rowan didn't mind his saying at all. "That's perfect," he exclaimed. "Tell me what to do! How do we open the cells?"

The man glanced down at the floor, where the bars met the floor. It seemed that the two fit perfectly together, with no seam and no weakness. Only a few inches above the floor, however, a crossbar had been welded against those bars as reinforcement. Halek Barret knelt and pointed there excitedly.

"With the proper leverage here, these bars can be lifted up with ease," he explained. "Ah, it was always the former Dragon Lord's greatest joy to place the easiest escape just out of his prisoners' reach. To let them revel in it and despair. I must confess, I, too, had despaired at it. Do you lads have anything about you to prize the bars away? A long stick would do just the trick."

Allun looked over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes at John. "Well, our friend here has a rather impressive sword – if he would dare lend it to someone aside from his family, that is."

John glared back at him and unsheathed his sword at once, as if to prove the other man wrong. He slid the blade beneath the crossbar and began tugging at it from the hilt, and the bars certainly seemed to loosen. Seeing a place to be useful, Norriss jumped to help him. Little by little, the bars began to lift away.

This band of prisoners would be free, in a moment. Free to storm out in a panic and grab at their rescuers, or bolt for the exit, or a number of other things that could only lead to disaster. And, weakened as he was, Rowan was overwhelmed with anxiety at the thought of so many people coming after him. It sent a shiver down his spine, and he gazed imploringly at the people inside that cell.

"Please don't crowd me, when you get out," he said as politely as he could. "I'm not myself just now, and I'm afraid I can't handle all of you at once."

The rest of the prisoners looked dismayed, and many seemed to want to protest; but Halek Barret nodded simply, as if in approval. "A just request, my lord," he agreed, raising his arms to hold his cellmates back. "Do as the young man has asked you to, friends. Leave the Titan some room to work, and breathe. We owe him our obedience, and it is the least we can do, besides."

Rowan wanted to argue that he was _not_ their lord, and that they owed him nothing; the mere fact that it had been suggested made his skin crawl. But he reluctantly accepted that this was the only way these people knew to act toward a Titan, and that for now, their obedience was a blessing. As it was, the rest of the prisoners had done as the doctor had told them to at once. Even the most desperate of them had backed away a bit, looking as disappointed as the rest, but now willing to give him the space he needed, if only because it had been so calmly commanded.

The men and women of Central Control had been trained from birth to obey without hesitation. They responded best to direct commands. Perhaps they needed clear instructions to be most effective, for they were also trained to not think very much for themselves. And they might bicker amongst themselves, but they would follow orders immediately if it came from someone ranked higher than they were. Not at all different in those ways from the gentle bukshah, who only needed to know who was the leader to be happy.

Realizing all of this brought a great feeling of comfort to Rowan's heart. If it held true, then Halek Barret was little different from Treasure or Star, or any other beast who had led the herd so wisely in the past. He was clearly a man of authority and sense, but also manners and kindness. He could be reasoned with. Whatever his actual rank was, the the rest of Central Control respected it enough to follow him without question.

All of this was good. Very good. Thank the heavens this man was here now to lead this trapped, frightened herd.

With a terrible grinding sound, the bars finally lifted up and slid out of the way. There was nothing separating the heroes from the prisoners, now, but the order to leave Rowan his space. In that moment, as the prisoners considered their newfound freedom, they seemed to understand the sense in staying put for a moment longer. There still wasn't much they could do, and many cells full of people who needed freeing, too. Instead of taking matters into their own hands, as they had plainly wanted to a moment ago, they waited to see what the doctor would command them to do next.

Cautiously, Halek Barret stepped out of the cell and faced Rowan squarely. Almost as an equal, but more as a willing subordinate, ready to be given orders and carry them out quickly and efficiently. Again, very like the herd in Rin. More and more, Rowan decided that he liked this man very much.

"Thank you for your help," he said, holding out his hand. "Is there anything else you can tell us about this dungeon?"

The doctor slowly reached for Rowan's hand and shook it firmly. "If anyone should be thanked for their help, it is you, my lord," he insisted evenly. "As for the dungeon, if you've managed to breach it in the first place, I doubt there is much I can tell you that you don't already know."

Rowan shrugged. "You live here. I don't."

The doctor also shrugged, silently admitting that it was a fair point.

"There are a number of switches throughout the dungeon," he said, holding his hands behind his back again. "They will open most, if not all the cells. I suspect you have passed them by, so far, not realizing what they are. If you don't mind my saying so, my lord, I don't expect western folk to know our wonders for what they are."

"I don't mind at all," Rowan insisted. "And you are right, we wouldn't know in the slightest. If you would tell us what to look for, we would sincerely appreciate it."

This time, Halek Barret allowed his smirk to grow until he was nearly grinning. "I must say, I've never enjoyed a conversation with a Titan quite so much before. The switches are set into the walls, outside the corridors. If you will come with me, I will show you."

As he led the party back the way they had come, he glanced into the cells as he passed them and announced in a loud voice, "The cells will be opened in a moment. As soon as you are able, I would have the whole lot of you come and join us in the main corridor. Be quick about it, and quiet, and _do not_ crowd the lord Titan or his companions. That is an order!"

Again, looks of disappointment and immediate obedience. They took orders better than most people in Rin, who would have risen their voices to question that command and insist on their own way. It was suddenly hard to believe that they had been so terrified of the Zebak for so long.

As they emerged into the main corridor, the doctor turned sharply and gestured to a fixture in the wall. It was a metal plate with an orange stone set in the middle, sparkling in the dim light. It could have easily been glass, but Rowan could feel a faint, sturdy energy pulsing through it. The stone was precious, or at least semi-precious, and filled with purpose and power.

 _It certainly stands out, now that I see it,_ he thought to himself, glancing down the long hallway and seeing other winking spots of orange all the way along the walls. _Even with all the commotion, how could I have missed it?_

"Magicite technology is still a new marvel, even to us, but we have found all manner of clever ways to harness it," Halek Barret was explaining calmly. "This ones in this dungeon are all citrine – a sturdy Fire stone and good conductor, well-suited to be rigged as a switch for the cells here. Observe."

With great nonchalantness, he pressed the stone into its metal plate; and at once, the sound of the many bars in the hallway beyond could be heard lifting away with the same grinding sound of metal on stone. Slowly, a modest, bedraggled legion of men, women, and teenagers filed out of the shadows to join them. All of them were looking to the doctor and the four heroes for commands, and most were struggling valiantly to keep their hands to themselves.

Seeing this, the doctor fixed his spectacles and straightened his white coat, as if that were enough to arm for battle. "Good, here we are. The next course of action is plain as day: all of you, split up down this corridor, and begin hitting the switches. Hit them with all your might! Release the other prisoners, especially those who still have a voice to give commands. Use gestures for now to show them the switches, and have them do the same. It may be best, for now, not to let them know just who has released us in the first place; they must think on their own people, not on our rescuers. Let us act swiftly, while we may still walk unheard."

That small legion looked about itself, and they began to nod slowly in agreement. No doubt, they had disliked being robbed of their voices so rudely. But now that they heard it put that way, they must have understood that this unnatural silence could be used to their advantage. When their countrymen were freed from their cells, there would be no uproar to to bring guards running.

With a feeling that time was running out, Rowan decided that it was time to address these people directly.

"This silence won't last forever," he told them, in a firm, authoritative voice he never liked using. "We have less than an hour to pull it off, and I know that the cells deeper within the dungeon have not been affected." He held up his map for them to see. "There are three manholes throughout this maze – one near the center, and another two in the north-east and -westernmost corners. These are your escape routes. They lead below the city, into the sewers. It may not be pleasant, but it is the only way out. A few of you go to those manholes, and lead people out as they come along. And... I have one other request for you."

The people around him seemed to lean a little closer, waiting with baited breath for what command their hero had to give them. He took a deep breath, wondering how they would react to his next words.

"Somewhere in this dungeon are several of our own people. A woman, three young ladies, and a young man. They've been working closely with the rebellion's leaders these last few years. Does anyone know them?"

At once, nearly every marked face came alive with interest and eagerness. One of them, a girl who couldn't be much younger than Star, dared to come forward to gently tug on his sleeve and nod excitedly. The look on her face seemed to say that she knew them well, and had perhaps worried over them in the night. He placed his hand over hers, and tears of wonder and joy filled her pale green eyes.

"See if you can find them," he pleaded. "Keep your eyes and ears open for them, at least. If you come across them, do your best to let them know we are here. They would find us on their own after that, I think."

"An excellent command, my lord," the doctor agreed, clearly touched despite his firm, professional voice. "We will have it all done at once, as you have requested. Is there anything else you require of us?"

Rowan shook his head. "Just that you do it to the best of your abilities. The four of us have a mission of our own, in the dungeon's deepest cells. The rebel leaders are far too important to be kept anywhere else, I think; and I suspect more and more that my wife and daughter will be there, also."

Beside him, Allun huffed and crossed his arms. "I daresay, if they were being held anywhere else, your little jailbreak would have started ages ago. Zeel would have rallied the troops to action at once, and Star has the Earth Sigil. No ordinary prison could hold them; but these switches can't be the only trick this dungeon has to offer."

The doctor shook his head. "To be certain, my lord. There are many places here guarded with stronger magic, to hold stronger prisoners. Such force alone could not undo it. But with a helping hand from outside..."

"Then I will follow my heart to those places and search them," Rowan said resolutely, glad of the warning. "In that case, that is all there needs to be. Let us begin."

"As you wish, my lord," the doctor agreed, waving his hand at the gathering. Without hesitation, those people darted off down the corridor, pressing the switches and summoning the released prisoners out. Several others ran through the hallway and disappeared, hopefully to seek out the manholes. In short seconds, only Halek Barret was left. Wondering a bit, Rowan saw that the girl who had tugged his sleeve before had also stayed. But the look on her face was one of eager determination, and he decided to be glad of her help.

That seemed to settle that. He pulled his remaining companions close around the map and held it up for them to see.

"We have our own tasks in all this, of course. Do we have any question for the doctor before we go?"

"I have one," Allun said at once, taking the map in his own hands and puzzling over it. "Is there an armory marked on this? The rebels might like to be armed, before making their grand escape. They won't last long against the gray monsters, otherwise."

"I see no such place labeled here," the doctor said thoughtfully, stroking his chin as he looked it over. "All the same, I know where it is. With this very useful map, I can show you the way. Arming our good rebels as best we can will, indeed, be wise."

The silent girl began nodding excitedly, looking pleased to be armed again. She appeared to want to accompany the doctor, and thank goodness. Even if he had a map and knew the way, the thick lenses of his spectacles were badly cracked. The way he kept fiddling with them, squinting through the cracks, proved that he could barely see, with or without them. He needed a steady guide as much as the rest of them did.

Rowan felt John's large hand clamp impatiently on his shoulder, and he found the man staring at him severely. Silently asking if arming their enemies was so wise, after all. It was amazing how irritatingly suspicious he could be, even without a voice. Rowan shrugged him off, snatched the map back, and handed it to the doctor.

"Follow our friend to the armory, then, and see about getting some swords handed out," he told the man, more forcefully than he could help. "Doubtless, you'll meet Alanis there eventually. She will prefer to be greeted with a sword being pushed into her hands."

That did just the trick, as he had hoped. His whole focus from the beginning had been to find his own daughter, hoping against hope that she had survived capture and imprisonment. It was difficult to think of her trapped here in this dungeon, languishing in a cell with no way to defend herself. If she was alive, if she could be freed, an armory was the first place she would look for.

John plainly still had his doubts about it all, but the idea of being there to greet his child with his own sword had put a spark of hope back in his eyes.

"I will go to the armory, also," Allun decided. "If these people liked my parts in the tales so much, it might cheer them to see me passing things around. Besides, it will suit me better to be organizing things than running around and getting lost."

And to keep John out of trouble, he thankfully hadn't added. The doctor and the silent girl seemed to wonder about it, but they certainly didn't protest. That made yet another party of four, then.

"But, my lord," the doctor commented, "you speak as though you will be going off without your only map. How will you find your way? Perhaps it would be best if you remain with us, for a time. I assure you, I can find those deeper cells in no time."

"I don't doubt that in the slightest," Rowan answered, smiling his thanks as he reached under his shirt collar. "But this is one thing I need to do on my own."

From its hiding place under his clothes, he pulled a very ordinary looking object. It was a simple, plaited cord of faded yellow silk, carrying a tiny reed pipe. Halek Barret squinted at it, not understanding and unable to see it properly. But the silent girl gasped in amazement, plainly recognizing it from stories and knowing exactly what it was. Seeing this, Rowan looked down at her and smiled.

"My wife has one, too," he explained. "We've both been trained to hear them. If I call to her, she will hear me no matter where she is; and if she still has hers, she will answer. I will as I said, I will follow my heart. I will follow it, whatever may be between us."

He had never needed to use the little pipe before. All the times in the past when he might have done so, he had let pass him by, foolishly trying to protect his beloved friend from dangerous journeys. And so, with a great feeling of destiny, he lifted the pipe to his lips and gently blew it for the very first time.

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On the other end of the dungeon, what remained of squad C-57 still huddled in miserable silence. It was still impossible to tell how much time had passed. It could have been days, if it had been hours. All they knew for sure was that the whole of Central Control couldn't be lost just yet, because the ten of them were clearly being saved for last.

All talk had stopped ages ago, it seemed. They had all spoken halfheartedly at first of regrets, abandoned hopes and dreams, and even apologies. In those first hours, Star suddenly found herself learning all manner of things about the people she thought she knew so well. Zhena had always had a soft spot for children, and never having the chance to be a mother had nearly brought her to tears. Zack Rivan had admitted to a gambling problem he had hidden from his friends for years, and that he had in fact won his ruined costume in a very risky bet. Zirita had dreamed of being a singer as a small child, much the same as June Barsa had dreamed of being a dancer. Zak had finally confessed in plain words that he had fallen in love with Leah, and had wished that he could have told her properly.

Star had wondered what Zamiel might have added, if only he could speak. Robbed of his voice, he had remained completely still, with his gaze locked on the floor, as if he couldn't hear, either. No doubt, he was thinking of his younger brothers, and all the things he might have done to save them.

None of that talk had cheered anyone, and so it had been abandoned and replaced with the silence. Star supposed they all slept and woke, slept and woke, as she had done. There was little else they could do, while they waited for the end.

All at once, Star felt her mother's dozing form stir beside her. It was gentle at first, as if she had been disturbed from a dream. Then Zeel sat bolt upright, nearly knocking Star over. She was looking all around, as if searching for something. In the dimness, her face was a mask of shock and disbelief.

"I... I could have sworn I heard..."

She climbed to her feet, still peering around for something she couldn't see. For a moment, she fiddled with her wedding ring, looking terribly unsure. Star watched in puzzlement as her mother hesitated, then reached for something around her neck.

Her wedding necklace, made from the kite of her youth and a plain reed pipe. She stared at it with terrible longing, and a desperate hope.

"But it can't be..."

In the other cells, the squad had noticed her behavior and were calling out to her, asking what was wrong. Zeel didn't seem to hear them. She hesitated only a second longer, before raising the pipe to her lips and blowing it gently with what seemed to be all her courage.

It made no sound that Star could hear, and she wondered furiously what had gotten into her mother. Their friends still calling her name, asking what on earth was the matter, what she was doing, and why. Impatiently, Zeel held up her hand to silence them.

"Hush, please," she told them. "I need to hear..."

Perhaps they wondered if she was beginning to crack. They did as she asked, and for a moment it was quiet again. Then, without warning, Zeel began to laugh. Laughing and weeping with joy, she fell to her knees and clutched the tiny pipe to her heart, babbling blessings and thanks.

Star was alarmed by it all. Maybe the pain and loss and despair of the night really had begun to drive her mother mad. Frightened by the idea, Star crept closer and reached for her hand.

"Mum, what is it?" she begged. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

Zeel turned to face her a grin that seemed to light up the dimness. And her eyes were shining with a hope that had flared back to life.

"Your father is here," she said, brushing her wet face. As if it proved everything, she held up her necklace.

"He is here, looking for us, and I will lead him."

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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I moved out. My workload increased to ludicrous speed. My boss up and quit. I got really sick. I bought a new car. My computer decided to not work for a while. I turned 26. I cried _a lot_ about student loans.

Hopefully, that all explains why this update is so freaking far behind. If I'm not working for 12 hours straight these days, I'm vegged out on the couch, watching anime, because I have no brain space left to be creative. Its all sucked, especially since I pretty much stalled out on page 11 out of 14, and spent the last three months only finding the gumption to write a sentence or two at a time. Very frustrating, considering all the fun times I had to squeeze into it.

And I assume that the looming summertime will be about the same. But it doesn't look like anyone will spend it dying slowly, so I'm looking forward to that. Of course, I will attempt to update regularly from now on, but... Eh. I'll be working 12 hours at a time and coming home to collapse for the foreseeable future, so I'll certainly try.

On the upshot, having my own HOUSE to come home to and collapse in is great! Its just a small duplex, but brother and I are happy here and plan to stay for the next few years, if we can. We bought a massive TV, I planted a raised garden, and I even bought a spin dryer. So proud of my little home...! 8D


	9. Chapter 8: The Jailbreak

And then it turned out I was suffering Major Depressive Disorder _the entire time._ (By which I mean about 6 or 7 years.) :/

So I took some time to go to a clinic and got some stuff taken care of, and now we're getting back on track. None of that has helped me to not procrastinate with this chapter, because once I got here, I had no idea how to write it. The result is a fittingly chaotic jumble of POV's switching back and forth constantly - even some which don't have names and will never be seen again, because no one person can single-handedly cover all the action properly.

It's very hard, seeing the action in your head for five years, and not being sure how to write it out coherently. Then I realized this whole chapter is chaos, anyway, so why not just go for it? I'm all about multiple points of view in the same chapter, but I've only ever skipped around quite like this one other time before, years ago, in what was at the time the most edgy and daring piece I had ever done. I like to think it has an interesting effect, like in a movie where the action keeps cutting away to different people doing different things at the same time. Reviewers then said it made sense and kept them on their toes. You might just find it jarring, which is partly what I had intended. Let me know how its turned out.

A final fair warning, this is a long one. With words like "time" and "suddenly" and "clearly" being used a little too much for my liking, but whatever. I had hoped it would be more, you know, succinct; but there's just too much. I can't cut it in half, as I would normally do, and I think you'll see why at the end. However, I anticipate it being the longest installment of the entire series, just because of how much I need to cover. I've kind of made my peace with it being as long as it need to be, because sometimes that's all there is to it. You can't rush miracles – otherwise, you get rotten miracles. :)

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 _Chapter 8: The Jailbreak_

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The Central Dungeon was quickly filling with silent, frightened warriors. Cells upon cells were being opened, with only a handful of voices to give further instructions or advice. Some of those voices were those of mere children, fourth class officers who were still years away from real service, let alone a place to give commands. But in that moment of desperation, those warriors couldn't care less who was giving orders. The voices leading them were speaking of a way to escape, and an insane miracle.

If so many voices were to be believed, there were Arin walking freely in the dungeon. The same heroes who had infiltrated the city in years past, returned as fathers and men of deep power. Some had run off in search of lost, captured loved ones. Others had made their way to an armory, glad to equip the rabble for a daring escape.

It seemed a ridiculous choice, in many of their minds. One the one hand, those with voices left to raise were calling them to the far corners of the dungeon, where drainage holes led beneath the city to a moment of freedom. On the other hand, Rowan of Rin was apparently somewhere nearby, and Allun the baker was handing out swords somewhere else. Which way were they supposed to run first? Which would they risk passing up: their chance to escape, or to shake hands with the people who had inspired so much in them?

Without voices to argue over it, it was left up to each of them to decide for themselves. It was a thing Central Control never taught its people to do. The Zebak were already a proud people who disliked admitting to fear or weakness; and so, many were glad they had no voice to say how the idea of acting alone, without a squadron for support terrified them. By now, most had no idea where the rest of their squadron even was, or how many of their original ten were still alive. Every single one of them had spent a moment feeling lost and abysmally alone, as they struggled to decide on their own what mattered most to them.

It never occurred to any of them that the people their heroes came from would have laughed at their hesitation and fear, baffled that their hated enemies could be so unsure of themselves. The Arin might have been amused to see the Zebak brought so low, when they had terrorized the west for so long. Some might have argued that they deserved it. But others might have been humbled and frightened that anything could have such a force reduced to this. And clearly, a precious few had been moved to feel compassion for them.

In their panic, what remained of Central Control had no time to consider any of that. All that mattered was that their heroes had come, as some had fantasized they might, and that they were free because of it. Now, it was up to each of them to make a choice for themselves, for the first time in their lives.

And so it was that many of them ran for escape, toward the manholes they had heard of, praying that it wouldn't lead them headfirst into another trap, but having no other choice. And still others ran back the way they had come, searching for the armory, praying they might bump into a pale, handsome face filled with power on their way.

And in this way, the Central Dungeon was filled with chaos for the very first time.

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The small armory was filling up with alarming speed, as John had feared it might. It had begun as two or three, four or five people darting around at a time, their jewel-colored eyes wide at the sight of him, hands outstretched, silently begging for something to defend themselves with. Now, there was a line outside the door. With only four people handing things out, and only two of them able to speak, progress felt slow. He and his companions were working as quickly as they could, pushing whatever they could grab into those outstretched hands and hurrying them along to make way for the next few. Though each pair of hands went out filled with a sword or a lash, every pair of eyes had left with deep longing for a better look at their rescuers. And the line seemed to go on and on for an eternity.

Every person who came into the armory was still dressed in the previous night's finery. Suits with torn tails and glossy buttons, frilly gowns adorned with ribbons and bows, and many people of sense who had stripped down to their equally frilly underclothes. Powder and khol and rouge were smeared with fighting and weeping on the marked faces of women and girls no older than Star. Men who had slicked their dark hair back for the occasion now wore it in matted, tangled messes. In a way, they looked just like Zan Garased had, when he had been hauled out of a closet so long ago.

Strong John had never seen such fashion before. He had never been able to imagine anything so decadent and petty could exist anywhere. Briefly, he thought back to his wedding day 20 years before, to the nice clothes he had set aside good money for, because it had mattered so much to him. Put away now in a trunk beneath his bed, they seemed like rags beside the suits filing past him. Each outfit was like a work of art, and it was a terrible shame that they had been destroyed like this. He couldn't imagine how much money had been wasted on it all.

He wouldn't have commented on it on a normal day. Without a voice for the moment, it was easier than ever to keep the idea to himself. Beside him, whether they had though of it or not, Allun and doctor Barret were busy calling out instruction to the people in line, and trying to determine through gestures which weapon each person preferred. Once it was decided, the silent girl who had joined them would scurry to find that weapon and pass it forward.

"This young lady seems to want a lash," Allun was saying to the girl, as the woman before him cracked an imaginary whip in front for him. "Bring me another four or five from the stores while you're at it; they appear to be selling well."

"Yes, sir!"

The answer squeaked out of the child before she quite understood it, and her hands flew over her mouth in amazement. The people in line were similarly amazed, testing their own voices and finding that many had returned. All at once, the quiet armory erupted in clamoring noise which no one could make sense of.

But the girl recovered herself expertly and ran to do as she had been told without thinking much about it. She returned with several whips coiled around her arm, as she had been told, and threw them into Allun's arms before running back for more. It was as though she was still under the silence, after all.

The next time she returned and hand over her load, Allun caught her by the arm. "Hey, finally I can ask, what's your name?" he said urgently. To his clear surprise, the girl froze at attention and saluted him stiffly.

"Zumai Adastani, fourth class, at your service – sir! Ready for further orders – sir!" she babbled, half as she had been taught, and half as she was right then and there.

Of course, Allun had never been asked to give orders before. For half a moment, all he could do was stare blankly back at her, unwilling to boss her around like she expected. Thankfully, the doctor placed his hand firmly on her shoulder and pulled her to face him.

"We will be needing more swords in a moment," he told her. "See if there are any left somewhere. Perhaps there is another closet or cupboard nearby. Look around! Hop to it!"

Without another word, Zumai ran to do as she had been told. A moment later, she reappeared with her arms filled with blades. Some were small and some were long, but all must have been sharp inside their sturdy sheathes. She dumped them in a heap between her commanders, then ran back for yet another load. Again, as if she was still silenced.

"I know Star and Forley," she gabbled over the noise the next time she returned. "I know all of them! They're my friends. They've been helping me with my studies – especially with sums. Forley's great at them! I wouldn't have passed this term without his help. Oh, and Alanis – she taught me this amazing new move with my sword, and I got a whole extra point on my exam for it! And Star, and Leah, they're just good friends. They're so good at listening and giving good advice. Third year is always the hardest, and I'd have lost my mind if it wasn't for them. And now _you're_ here! I always knew you'd come back! I knew you wouldn't give up on them without a fight! Not when they're all so much like you."

Hearing all this, John felt his heart filling with pride. The four awkward, mischievous rascals he had known so well had clearly grown and changed since the last time he had seen them. It was thrilling to think that they had done so much good in this unlikely place. Smirking to himself, he wondered if he would recognize them at all if they ran through the armory, or if Zumai would know them first.

He searched himself, and was faintly aware that if he opened his mouth to speak, words would certainly come out. He could raise his voice and be heard, if he wished. But Rowan, Norriss, and Allun had been right. He had needed to hear these people, instead of himself. And he was strangely content to listen to Zumai going on and on about her friends, and her work with the rebellion, and how exciting it was to be alive right now. It seemed a pity to spoil all that by speaking at last. And so he kept his own silence, and tended to his own work.

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Elsewhere, Forley was huddled in a cell with Alanis and Leah held close, too deep in the dungeon to even know that there was silence. That cell was was as crowded as any other, and it had broken his heart all over again to see his sister forced into it. For all the progress she had made in the last few years, her crippling fear of crowded spaces had consumed her. The fact that her spectacles had been shattered and lost in their capture had done nothing to help. Packed into the cell like a fish in a jar, sweating and weeping among so many other bodies, and half blind besides, he had feared she might lose her mind over it in the long night.

At least the three of them had found themselves together in that cell. They had been hauled out of Bhlai House with Zeel and Thora, too, but had been separated from them soon after. Zeel had been taken to meet with the queen; they couldn't imagine that she was still alive. As for Thora, they couldn't guess where she might be now.

Then there was Star, and all of squad C-57. No one wanted to think on what had become of them.

Forley stiffed a sigh – maybe the hundredth so far – and held his dear ones a little closer. Clearly, they were meant to perish together. He had chosen from the beginning to feel no shame or regret over it; but from here, awaiting it in this cell, it was hard to accept. He could vaguely remember Alanis saying that she loved him, and that it would be alright somehow. He thought she had said the same to Leah, as she had cowered and shaken between them while they sheltered her. He recalled insisting much of the same, though he hadn't meant a word of it. It had only been vain noise on his part, words he had been obligated to say as their protector, even though there was no reason for any of it. They all seemed to understand this, and so hadn't spoken a word since. There would only be falseness in it.

When he had been small, he had disliked having a sister when he had wanted a brother, and girls for cousins instead of boys. But his parents had always told him that he should be thankful and get along with them, because they would be all he had someday. Those wise words had never been more true than right now. He didn't even know if Star, the most precious of them, who he had tried so hard his whole life to protect, was still alive. He wished with all his might that he had more time to be thankful for them, and to apologize to his mother and father for ever doubting their words.

Then, with no warning whatever, a terrible grating sound cut through the noise of shouting and wailing around them. A sound of metal on stone, changing the terrible wails into gasps of disbelieving surprise. Somehow, the bars sealing the cell shut were lifting away, and people were spilling out into the passage beyond.

Before they quite knew what was happening, Forley, Alanis, and Leah found themselves leaping from that cramped corner and darting out last of all. In the passage, all the cells had been opened by some unseen means. People were surging out in a frenzy to the main corridor, where a voice was hollering for them to come along and hear what was going on.

Alanis and Forley wanted very badly to run out and hear all about it; but they stopped and turned back when Leah didn't join them. Frozen at the threshold of their cell, finally free in her own way, she clearly had no interest in getting caught up in another crowd of confused, panicking people. The three looked between each other, unwilling to be separated now, but unsure what to do.

"You won't believe it," someone was yelling in the corridor. "The Arin are here! Here, in the dungeon!"

Alanis scoffed and glared toward the voice. "Damn straight we are," she yelled back. "We've been here the whole time, as you all know!"

A friendly face they didn't recognize came pushing through the crowd, filled with joy to have found them so easily. Seeing them alone, he ran forward and grabbed Forley by the arm, dragging him toward the corridor in a fever of impatience.

"Oh, thank the stars, you're all alive," he said, laughing and grinning all the way. "And all in one place, too! What are the odds? Your fathers will be thrilled!"

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Dashing through yet another part of the dungeon, Rowan and Norriss were punching every glowing orange button they passed, as they followed the silent call of pipe song. There was no time to stop and explain to the people pouring out behind them who they were, how or why they were there, or what to do next. Those masses were all of Central Control, and so the two naturally assumed that they would figure it out for themselves. All that mattered was the call which only Rowan could hear, guiding them deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Rowan had feared it overly hopeful, thinking that Zeel might still have the tiny reed pipe that matched his own – if she was still alive to use it at all. She would never have lost it or given it up without a fight; but after all that had happened, who could have known for certain? When he had raised his pipe to his lips for the first time, he had been terrified that no answer would come.

But an answer had come, just as she had always promised it would if only he would ask for one. And so he followed its clear, simple sound in his ear, his heart pounding with fear and longing. Whenever he was unsure of which way to go, he would call again and wait for another answer, then follow the new one.

The way was growing steadily darker, fewer torches to light the halls. More and more often, now, cells were opened like all the rest, and no one came bursting out to run for freedom. In fact, very suddenly, it seemed that the corridors had grown completely silent. With a sick, sinking feeling in his stomach, Rowan realized that the people in those cells had been hauled away and destroyed hours ago.

But the sound of Zeel's pipe was growing stronger, as the light faded. Deep within the dungeon, there were a few people still alive. Being saved for last.

How could the Dragon Queen have guessed that by relishing those prizes, as any victor would, she would lose them?

His strength was fading, and it was tempting to despair over those he hadn't been able to save. What if they had been killed while he crept slowly through the city? Or while he tarried at Bhlai House, recovering his power for this mission? Or while he lost his temper and nearly fainted right here, inside the dungeon? As always, the thought of losing even one was agonizing. And so he stubbornly pushed that idea from his mind, willing all his strength into this final push.

The call was so loud, now. So close. Only a few more twists and turns, and perhaps he wouldn't even need the little pipe any more. And then there would be escape. He would need all the strength he had left.

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In those deepest, darkest cells, squad C-57 had come back to life. Even silent Zamiel had jumped to his feet, watching with anticipation as Zeel led her husband to them. The rest were talking excitedly about what would come next, and cheering her on every time she blew her pipe again. Each time she did, it meant that their hero had come a little closer, and that they were all that much closer to freedom. To one last chance.

In all that frenzied talk, Star also noticed that her friends were afraid. As thrilled as they were to meet their rescuer, it was impossible for them to ignore the fact that they _had_ met before. It was the same man they had held back as they had kidnapped his wife. Remembering the cruel words she had hissed in his ear that night, Zirita had gone into a fit of panic. Zane was fidgeting nervously, recalling that he was the one who had knocked the Titan of Earth unconscious.

And now he was _here_. It had been easy enough not to think about when they had been so sure they would never see him again. But now he was speeding towards them, intent on rescuing his family. None of them had said so out loud, but Star knew they all wondered if he would bother with the rest of them.

Star couldn't say she blamed them. She had fears of her own. Her father was coming for her, as any father should, and she was overjoyed. What she had thought would be her dying wish was to see him and hold him one last time, and now it was coming true before her eyes. But he would certainly ask for the Earth Sigil back at once, eager to use its power once again. And she would have to explain how she had foolishly given it away and lost it. To the Zebak boy she had pledged her heart to, no less.

For a few moments, he would be glad to see her. Then he would only be bitterly disappointed in her. Perhaps he would never trust her again. If he still did at all, after the way she had run off and stolen his power in the first place. He might never speak to her, or look at her ever again. Increasingly sure of this, she agreed more and more with her friends. She couldn't wait to see her father again. But she was also terrified to face him.

The only one of them who truly couldn't wait for him to appear was Zeel, never taking her eyes off the passage entrance, holding her pipe ever at the ready to answer when he called for her. She had forced herself to stop weeping with joy, to be serious and ready for action; but a tear still rolled down her face from time to time, anyway. It seemed like she couldn't hear the others talking and cheering around her, while she listened so carefully. But she had nothing to hide. Nothing to apologize for. No terrible wrong to try to set right. Her beloved friend was coming, as she had always known he would, and not a moment too soon. She would hug and kiss him again for the first time in years. And all would be well with her in an instant.

At last, there came a sound which they could all hear. An achingly familiar voice, distant but nearby, calling Zeel's name, and Star's, too. Even though it wasn't calling the rest of them, the squad joined in shouting back that they were there, making themselves as loud as they could. Unable to add his voice, Zamiel gripped the bars of his cell and shook them, sending a rattling din like thunder echoing through the corridor.

In her heart, with the parts of deep magic which still coursed through her blood, Star could _feel_ her father approaching, long before she heard his footsteps in the hallway beyond. She could feel him running, following their voices and the strong sense of her own magic. As if he was letting it all tug him forward like a lifeline. His voice and presence were growing stronger, and she was certain she could feel his heart pounding like her own. Perhaps, alike as they were by mystic powers, their two hearts were beating in time.

Then the sound of running feet were close. Closer. Just outside! In spite of all that would have to be faced, Star and her friends were cheering with joy. And then they all seemed to realize together that something wasn't right in that corridor, which they had thought for so long was only dark and empty. Peering desperately for their rescuers, they could see nothing.

"There it is!" shouted another familiar voice, invisible in that dark void, followed again by the sound of running.

And in a split second, Star remembered. This row of cells, reserved for the most important and wily of prisoners, was sealed shut by more than bars with a simple way out. She knew it well from her last journey to this place; but in all that had happened, there had been no reason to think of it. Only now, too late, she found herself calling out to beware – at the same time as her father.

"Wait! Don't touch the barrier!"

"Norris, come back! Stop!"

But it was too late, indeed. With a booming sound, the other man collided with the barrier, and could be heard crashing to the floor as it knocked him back. Star was horrified. She knew better than to touch things of such terrible magic, and had no idea what it might do to a person. For all she knew, her uncle could be gravely injured, or even dead. To her overwhelming relief, she heard him gasping for air and groaning from his fall; but he sounded no worse for ware.

"Drat," they heard him hiss, also hearing him stagger to his feet. "Another one of these doors. Rowan, where's that moonstone? Hand it to me. I'm sure I can figure it out."

"I don't have it," Rowan answered, exasperation clear in his voice. Star could only imagine the look on his face. It was just so wonderful to hear him again, and Norriss, even if they were frustrated and yelling at each other.

"What do you mean, you don't have it? Where is it?"

"Allun still has it. He never gave it back."

"Allun is here, too? Oh, thank the stars," Zeel blurted out, bowing her head and looking dizzy with gratitude.

"Zeel? Zeel, there you are!"

"Woman, I am loving the sound of your voice right now!"

"We can't open the door from out here. But there has to be a way – there must be! Help us!"

As if he could reach them somehow, Zak stuck his hand through the bars and pointed uselessly at the wall. "Isn't there a magicite? A button? Orange? Glowing? You can't miss it! Just push it and get us out of here!"

"We know that, man, but there's nothing here," Norriss shouted back. "Nothing at all. Wait... What's this...?"

Star heard her father huff in annoyance. "Of course it would be hidden," he grumbled. There was the sound of a switch being flipped, and the barrier shimmered and vanished. At the same time, the bars lifted up and away, and the ten prisoners flew out of those cells like birds freed from a cage.

Star barely got a chance to look at her father and uncle, standing dazzled by what had just happened. Look, she did – but her mother had run to them first. By the time Star saw them, Zeel had already thrown her arms around them both, overwhelmed to have not one, but two of her dearest friends back at once.

"You took your sweet time," she scolded them. "What kept you so long?"

And before Star quite knew it, her father had ducked and woven through the crowd to find her and pull her safe into his arms. It was impossible to be afraid of him, when it was such a joy to be reunited. In the back of her mind, she still couldn't think of how to tell him that his source of power was gone; surely, he would ask for it any moment. But he never did. He asked to just look at her pretty face, seeming not to notice her false mark, and tearfully kissed her with all his love. He checked her over and demanded to know if she was hurt, if she was well enough to take the knife he pulled from his own belt and pushed into her hands. He asked if the rest of the squad was accounted for, and if any of them needed healing before they made a run for it.

He wanted this beautiful moment of reunion to last longer. They both did. But, alike as they were, they both knew there was no time for it. He was being practical, focusing on the things that mattered right now; and Star knew that she would have to be, too. They would hold each other and weep together for as long as they wanted later – but first, they would have to escape.

"Wait, before we go, there is one of us who needs healing."

It was Zeel who had spoken so frankly, the pure joy gone from her face and replaced by fierce determination. She was marching with purpose toward her husband, hauling Zamiel behind her. The silent man was clearly petrified to be pushed so suddenly before the man whose life he had ruined; but with time so short, and with someone he respected so much dragging him along, how could he have prevented it?

"This man's voice has been taken from him by dark powers," Zeel explained shortly. "He is their leader – he _needs_ his voice back, or the rebellion is lost for certain. Rowan, can't you help him?"

The two men stood staring at each other for a longer time than there was really time for. They had absolutely never planned on meeting again, much less like this. And Zamiel had the face of a man staring his own death in the face. But Rowan just nodded simply, his dark eyes wide with amazement, never able to turn away a soul in need. With a short wave of his hand, Zamiel gasped as though he had been suffocating.

As easily as his voice had been snatched away, it had been returned. It would have been just like him to start shouting orders to his squadron. Instead, he went on staring at the Earth Titan without looking him in the eye, awaiting orders he wasn't willing to speak up and ask for. Not when the trouble he had caused this man had sat on his shoulders for so long.

Rowan seemed to understand this, sighing a bit sadly to himself. "There is an armory in this maze somewhere," he said at last to Zamiel. "Can you take us there?"

And, glad to have direction, Zamiel nodded. "I can, and I will."

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At the very same moment, the armory had suddenly become the scene of a battle. A man as bedraggled as the rest had looked John in the eye and begged for a sword, which was handed over at once. John had even found the heart to give the man an encouraging smile, wishing him all the best in his escape. And as soon as he had that sword in hand, that man's pleading face had become a mask of cold fury, and he had lunged at his rescuers with all the malice John had expected from the start.

The instinct to draw his own sword had been drilled into him from his boyhood; it had never been needed in all his life, though, and came almost too late to matter. But John had found his father's sword in hand, thrown to block that blow faster than he could think, and it had saved his life. Before he or his attacker could fight at all, the other people who had been in line ahead of him had turned back and rushed to his aid, rather than that of their own countryman. The unarmed people behind him had grabbed the attacker and held him back, while the rest had fallen upon him in a panic.

Only a few blows later, John found that the Zebak had killed one of their own for his sake. None of them had looked pleased to have had to do it, but they hadn't shown any remorse. Shaking with nerves, the woman who had done most of the hacking had cursed and spat on the corpse before her as she re-sheathed her own sword.

"Loyal servant," she had hissed with distaste. "Traitor! Someone get this waste of human flesh out of the way, before someone trips on it."

Zumai Adastani had mumbled an affirmative and rushed to do the woman's bidding, as though she had been ordered to do it personally. For all her youth, the girl had been pitifully unfazed by it all. Even as she had bent to roll that body aside, the most feeling she had shown was indignant annoyance. As if offended that someone had attacked her new friends and rescuers. And then the line had gone on without another hitch for some time. Only one person had stopped to comment on it since.

"Oh. General Kasi," the man had said without feeling, blankly noticing the mangled body. "I had wondered what had become of my master... Are there any lashes left?."

Whether because they were in a hurry or just used to such things, they simply hadn't cared.

Which was more than John could say for himself, or his other companions. Allun had clearly been shaken by how easily the attack had happened, and so was doctor Barret. Who even knew when another "loyal servant" would come in their way, ask for a sword, and try without warning to cut them down?

Still, he suddenly saw these people in a new light. He now saw that they were all fighting for the same things, for the same reasons, and that they were helping each other. They were willing to fight and die for each other, even though they were complete strangers and supposedly natural enemies. Such an unspoken trust would never had sufficed in Rin.

But Rin was far away, he had to remind himself as he passed around another bunch of swords and whips. He was in Habaharan, now, and the people of this vast city did things very differently. What was more, the people of his small town hadn't really had to fight for something in a long time. These people had been fighting for years – thousands of them. And they were willing to include him in that fight, when there was hardly a reason to that he could see. He thought of all this as he worked, and made one of the biggest decisions of his life:

He decided to trust in the Zebak, to whatever end. He suddenly respected them so much, he couldn't help it. They were so strong in all the most important ways, he couldn't see how they wouldn't pull through. And he now longed to be a part of that.

And then came another moment he had been dreading. Zumai returned with only a single sword and a few whips over her shoulder, and began wringing her hands as soon as they were empty.

"That's the last of it," she said simply. "I've looked all over, and there's nothing left. There's one other door... But it's solid steal, and locked fast. I've tried and tried, but I couldn't open it."

John couldn't help feeling dismayed at the thought of turning the rest of the long line away empty-handed. Zumai, herself, hadn't paused to keep something useful for herself, when there had been so many people to be served first. She would be among the hundreds who would have to make do with their wits and bare hands. Maybe, as a mere fourth class officer, she was used to serving her betters first, hoping there would be something small left for her at the end, and making do even if there wasn't. John, however, preferred to think that it was in her nature to care for others first, just because she had a good heart.

It was what he expected from most people he met, so why should it be any different with this courageous young woman? It was what Annad and Rowan would have done, without thinking twice about it – an admirable quality they had both gotten from their father. What if Zumai had gotten it from her own father? It was a charming idea...

From somewhere behind them, there came a sound of crashing and things being thrown around in a hurry, muffled by stone and metal. Looking that way, it appeared to be coming from the other side of the wall. Perhaps from inside the room Zumai hadn't been able to get into. If so, John realized with a thrill of excitement, it meant there was another way into it, and maybe even a lock on the other side.

"There's no time, woman," a muted voice shouted over the noise. "Just grab whatever you can carry and come on!"."

"No! I _must_ find that sword! It was my father's, and his father's before him! I can't face him without it!"

"No, love, there really is no time left! And besides, you've turned the room over, like all the others! It's not here!"

"But it has to be! Where else could it be?"

Those voices were different from what John remembered, but he would have known them anywhere. He left the line behind him to run for that locked door and found it at once. It was the only one that hadn't been flung open and emptied. Feeling as though he would jump out of his skin, he pounded on that door almost as hard as his heart was beating.

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A flock of people had led Forley, Alanis, and Leah into another maze of smaller rooms, filled with all manner of weapons. Swords and whips, lances and bows, and even several magicites of various stones neatly lined the walls and filled drawers and cupboards. The people with them helped themselves gleefully to whatever struck their fancy, for there was plenty for all.

For Alanis, though, there was only one thing here worth finding. She had dropped her father's sword when she had been captured, but she couldn't believe that it had been left behind. It had been too valuable, in her mind – a mind that had been trained for battle by the Arin, who couldn't afford to waste one thing. And what would have been done with such a useful, famous, blade? It would have been picked up and dumped in an armory, with all the rest, for the Dragon Lord's army to use.

And so she had darted through each of those rooms, flinging open doors and drawers and picking through piles, looking for it. Surely, she would turn a corner and find herself standing in front of her father at any moment. He was somewhere nearby, handing out weapons. She couldn't bear to have to tell him that she had lost his treasured sword. She refused to be reduced that.

But they had come to the last room, and the sword was nowhere to be found, and her family was growing impatient with her. Just as she was beginning to panic, someone began pounding on that door from the other side. And with it came the most wonderful sound she could imagine.

"Alanis! Alanis, make haste and open the door!"

All thought of the sword suddenly flew from her mind. She left her search behind and ran for the door, searching it all over for a knob or a latch. She knew that Forley and Leah were beside her, also searching; but all she could think of was that this door was the only thing left separating her from her father, and that it _must_ be opened.

Except, from what they could see, there was no knob. No latch. Nothing at all. Anxiety replaced the joy that had filled her.

"We're trying," she shouted back, beating on the door in frustration. "Oh, blast it, there has to be a way! Just give us a moment – we can find it. I'm sure of it!"

"There's a full store in here," Forley hollered over her. "Nearly untouched. And good stuff, too. Powerful stuff! If you've still got people waiting to be armed, tell them to be ready for a bounty!"

While they went on scrabbling at every crevice they could find for a way out, Leah happened to look up, and she gasped with excitement. She left them to run her fingers over a fixture set in the wall near the door, peering desperately at it without her spectacles.

"I think this is it," she mumbled, fiddling blindly with whatever she had found. Alanis barely got to see what she did with it – whether she pulled or pushed or twisted it, or what else she might have done. But the door suddenly swung open under her weight, and she found herself falling forward –

Right into her father's waiting arms. She knew there was no time for it, but she let him hold hold her with all his might, and she held him right back. Elsewhere, she heard heard Forley and Leah rushing out after her to run for their own father, all of them tearfully crying out to see each other again, so much louder than she and John could ever have been.

It seemed a dangerously long time had passed before he finally released her and silently pulled a sword from its sheath in his belt. And there it was – their family sword, returned to its rightful owner, after all. He also took her hand, pulled the familiar ruby magicite from his pocket, and placed it in her palm.

"A noisy little bird said you might be needing this."

As it often was with the two of them, nothing more really needed to be said. The moment behind them, she gripped his arms and spoke to him as a warrior.

"Father, there are whole rooms full of things back here, as Forley said. Are there any other people waiting to be armed?"

"Yes! A long line of them, I'm afraid."

"Well, haul them over here! We've got work to do!"

And that was the end of it. It seemed to Alanis that her father was just now finding his voice, somehow, as he began barking orders to people she couldn't see. A skinny man she didn't know, and a girl she knew very well began herding the long line of people toward the open door. Seeing this, Forley ran back into those rooms and took charge, organizing the people who were already there. Allun also ran past her, dragging Leah by the hand behind him, and playfully punched her arm as he passed her. It was all the greeting they had time for, but she was glad of it.

She could barley believe he had dared to return to this place. But then, it was hard to believe her father had come here at all. Surely, she would never bother being surprised by anything ever again.

The long line was quickly re-routed into the rest of the armory, far larger than the one corner they had been in before; and with several more pairs of hands to pass things around, the line was moving quickly. Alanis wondered how things had been going before the iron door had been opened. Her father looked incredibly pleased by it, as if he could finally do his part well.

"There are ways out of here, into the sewers," he mentioned shortly as they worked. "We have them on a map, from a friend of yours. Do you know where they are? Have you seen them?"

"We passed by one of them, yes," she answered, just as shortly. "Some people with us took that chance on our way here, but the rest wanted to be able to show off their swords and say they got them from Strong John of Rin. I hope they're satisfied with what they got."

"Is the exit nearby?"

"Yes, very near. Just around a corner. The hole isn't even covered, we left it wide open for others to find after us."

Hearing all this, Allun huffed without looking up from his work. "We are much nearer the center of the dungeon than I thought, then. I can't believe it's been right here the whole time! We have the map, of course, but I've barely bothered looking at it for some time. We've been a little busy, as you can see. Have you any idea where Zeel and Star might be in all this mess?"

"We do, in fact," Forley answered right away. "I've been there, myself. Its deeper in, though, and they'll have a time getting out on their own."

To this, his father laughed lightly. "Not if Rowan of Rin has anything to say about it!"

Before they could think on that wonderful news, an angry blaring noise sounded through the dungeon. All the marked people around them began to panic again, and many abandoned their places in line to scramble for the exit beyond. The rest were pleading to armed faster, and nearly tripping over each other in their haste to get out.

Alanis knew what that sound meant, and couldn't blame them.

"What is that?" he father demanded over the noise.

"We've been hearing it all night. Every time that alarm sounds, it means the guards are coming back. They take a legion or two at a time and haul them off. They've finished with the last bunch and are coming for the next, but instead they'll find... This!"

Hopefully, by now, there were no cells left unopened to be emptied. Those guards would storm in to carry out their orders, only to find their victims running for the exits. They would summon reinforcements, and then there would be a battle. Perhaps the exits would be discovered, and the city in the sewers with them. The last refuge in Habaharan would be overrun, and the rebellion's last chance would be doomed.

And there was nothing any of them could really do but continue pushing arms into people's hands, hoping they could get a decent head start. Time was running short, indeed.

Leah dropped what she was doing and stumbled back toward the door, feeling for the stone that had unlocked it. There was no time to ask what she was doing or why; but she was prying at the metal plate that held the stone in place, throwing it aside, and fiddling with the wiring behind it.

"I think I can jam their communications," she announced over her shoulder. "I can see it all well enough this close, if I squint. At least they won't be able to call for backup. I just need a few minutes..."

It was impossible to tell if they had a few minutes to spare; and on her own, hardly able to see, the minutes they did have didn't seem like they would be enough. Alanis could only hope that when the guards came through, the prisoners would be able to overpower and stop them before they got far or caused much damage. It would be the only way, now...

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Very nearby, now, squad C-57 and their new companions were also startled by the alarm. Rowan and Norriss, however, didn't stop to ask what it meant; they just seemed to silently understand that it meant danger was approaching, and hurried to match pace with the other warriors. Or, most of them. Star glanced over her shoulder as her brave, brilliant father found himself straggling behind with short Zione and weak Zirita. Now that she looked at him, Star realized that he was tired, nearing the end of his strength.

"How much farther?" he asked between gasping breaths.

"I have no idea," Zirita answered without looking at him. "Zamiel knows the way. I'm just following."

"My step-father should be there. Forley's father, too. If we could just get there..."

He had spoken to Zirita, but also loud enough for the rest to hear. Clearly he had done this on purpose, to give them all a reason to keep going. If only out of curiosity, of course they wanted to meet Rin's other heroes, and the fathers of their friends, and some of the people who had inspired their rebellion in the first place. Star, herself, was thrilled to see her grandfather and godfather again. It seemed to her that their whole company had found a great burst of speed to push them forward.

Not that there was anything or anyone before them to get in their way. All the cells and corridors around them were empty. The people who had been in them had either been freed and run off, or had been hauled away hours ago. It reminded Star terribly of her last journey through this maze – only this time, rather than cries of despair all around her, the blaring siren was warning of a menace approaching from behind.

What if those guards were coming at last for the prisoners in the deepest, darkest cells? They would be shocked and furious, indeed, to find those cells empty. What on earth would they do, then?

As if fulfilling that fear, shouting voices and stamping feet were growing louder behind them. But Star could guess easily at what was chasing them – another swarm of ten inhuman men in old fashioned gray uniforms, armed with simple whips which Central Control had been taught to fight well against. The only trouble was that the swarm sounded to be gaining on them with supernatural speed. In what seemed only seconds, Star found that she could hear their words clearly, just around a corner.

She was far from the only one to notice this. Zamiel skidded to a halt and looked back the way they had come, prompting the rest to do the same.

"We will have to stand and face them," he decided. "Tend to your posts, friends! Just as we've always practiced."

"But we've no weapons," Zach Rivan protested.

"We've our teeth and bare hands, man. That will have to be enough."

The only one of them who didn't seem doubtful about the situation was – of all people – Zirita. She was timid and weak-willed by nature, but she was also the only one of them with any skill in hand-to-hand combat. In fact, she had chosen to specialize in it. And so she had squared her shoulders and moved into a fighting stance at the head of the company, looking ready to face what was coming. With the torn gray and brown skirts of her _habikule_ hanging around her in pieces, and a defiant sneer on her face, she looked like a real warrior for the very first time.

Otherwise, Star and Norriss both hand knives in hand, and Rowan had unclipped the whip from his belt. The rest glanced longingly at it, wishing they had something in hand they could use. It was hardly much, at all.

As the ten monsters came charging around the bend toward them, Star found herself charging right back at them without thinking twice. All the long months of training and crusading took over, and thoughts of Zan with them. The desire for vengeance that had grown in her in the night consumed her. There was no room for error or mercy this time. Today, against these unnatural creatures, she knew she had to kill. She was so focused, so intent on causing pain to those who had hurt her so badly, she could have been standing to face them alone.

One of the monsters was quickly shocked to find her borrowed knife slashing across its chest. No doubt, it hadn't expected so much trouble from someone so much smaller and wearing a torn dress. It had only been one blow, hardly more than a scratch; but, to Star's amazement, the thing she had attacked appeared to evaporate before her eyes. With a puff of sickly gray smoke, the thing's heavy, empty armor clattered to the floor in a disgusting heap.

The rest were being dispatched similarly all around her. A swift kick to the jaw from Zirita. A crack of Rowan's whip. Even a bite from Zak, when he had been grabbed and pulled too close. None of those hits were enough to really hurt anyone. For all these beings' impressive strength, though, these puny touches were enough to disintegrate them.

These monsters didn't just serve a dark magic. They were _made_ of it, as surely as Star, herself, was made of deep magic. And they had been made cheaply and hastily, to be replaced as easily as they were destroyed.

Enraged to see its fellows falling so easily, another monster bellowed and lunged after Star, snatching for her wide sleeves. Instead, with a thrill of fright and anger, she found it had caught her by her hair and was pulling her back. In what seemed like a flash of light to her, she whipped around and slashed with her knife at her attacker – and straight through her own hair.

The monster dissolved, and its empty clothes tumbled to the floor like all the rest. In a daze, Star watched as her long, lovely mane tumbled with it. Between the rush of battle and the sudden loss of so much weight, she felt lightheaded. It felt like she had come out of a trance, and only now looked around to see that two creatures had fallen by her own hand.

She knew she should have been horrified with herself, but she felt little. Not even triumph over their small, decisive battle, as the last monster was slain. Not even shock over her hair, as both her parents watched her carefully, waiting for her to say something.

All she felt was the urgent need to keep moving. And perhaps to lay more monsters to waste on the way. She had never felt more dead inside... But she had also never felt so alive.

So she shook herself, tugged her last skirt back into place, and stalked without feeling to stand with Zamiel. She was so ready for another battle. For once, she craved a plan and orders to follow, as the siren went on warning of a danger that had been neutralized.

"Is everyone alright?" he was asking over the noise. "No losses? No injuries? Did anyone see one of them call for reinforcements? No? We should consider ourselves lucky, then. If all our intelligence holds true, the armory and our escape are nearby. We go with all speed. Leave this garbage for the collectors to deal with."

With that, he kicked scornfully at the husk of a monster and turned away, leading his people down the corridor. Star walked with them, rather than her own family, with the strange sensation that she was filling Zan's place among them. She could never hope to replace him, of course; but at least squad C-57 was that much closer to being complete again. With a start, she found her father's hand on her shoulder as he gazed at her in concern.

"Star, are you alright?" he asked impatiently, worry in his face.

Itching for another fight and unready to face him, she shrugged him off. "I'm fine," she said flatly, and more coarsely than she had meant to. As she had half expected, he didn't press her. His hand slid away, and he said no more. She knew she had hurt him, but there was no time to dwell on it. She would have to apologize another time, whenever it came.

Turning a corner, they were met with an almost comic sight. Before them, a trail of warriors was filing as quickly as they could down a hole in the floor, like ants returning to their nests. With the alarm still blaring, those warriors looked up in fright as squad C-57 came around the corner, expecting to be caught by monsters. Seeing who it really was, they all relaxed, and many cheered to see their fearless leader and his men.

Needlessly, they directed the party back the way they had come, telling them to follow the line they had formed. Hands reached out to clasp theirs as they passed, just happy to see them alive. To Star, their happiness seemed terribly out of place. She did her best to at least smile and appear grateful for their faith in her; but she was still antsy, feeling empty and yet ready to explode at the same time.

They must have been halfway down the line, glad to be nearing the armory and to see so many rebels still alive. Many of the squad were thinking on what weapons they hoped were still available. Star heard her father commenting that he could sense his sister nearby. For herself, she was looking forward to finding a bigger blade, and to sassing her grandfather by hugging her godfather first. It almost brought a smile to her face, almost soothed the rage that had filled her heart, almost made everything alright again.

And then a tall, bristling figure stepped out of the line ahead of them, blocking the way. It had been easy to overlook, bedraggled and sulking in line with everyone else; but now that it revealed itself, Star was beyond disbelief with herself. How had she not seen and known that horrible face from a mile away? As the rest of the squad gasped in alarm and lurched to a halt, she knew they were all thinking the same thing:

How could they have not known their own master?

Brandishing a sword that had certainly come from the armory, Zared Azan was striding after them with rage in his face. Star could see his mouth moving, but could scarcely make out what he was saying. In fact, her friends and family clamoring around her sounded muffled and far away. Faintly, she was aware that the fallen general was wasting time mocking them, and that they were wasting time talking back to him.

Pleasantries. Petty pleasantries, that was all. They made her blood boil, and she gripped her borrowed knife so tight she felt her fingernails digging into her palm. This man was the start of so many of their troubles. He had abused the man she loved. He had tried to seduce her mother. He had _owned_ her friends. He had turned them over to the Dragon Lord.

He was the reason Zan was dead.

This thought flashed through her mind like lightning, and set something ablaze in her. In a part of herself she hadn't known existed, and couldn't name. Suddenly, all she could see was a blur of red. A scream of anguish and cold fury rang from her heart and out of her mouth. Her knife held high, she darted ahead of her companions, only vaguely aware of her own actions.

The moments that followed remained unclear to her for the rest of her life. The only things she would ever recall with any certainty was the sound of her small, sturdy knife against the general's sword, and the sharp pain of that blade in her arm. In that moment, however, pain alone could do nothing to stop her. All she knew to do was to go on slashing and slashing, stabbing and stabbing...

It felt like she blinked for the first time in years. She blinked again, and again, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She was peering down at her own hands, but she couldn't be quite sure they were her own. They didn't feel like her own, as if they weren't attached to her body. They were covered in blood – some hers, some not – and trembling with nerves. She turned her hands over and over, staring without really seeing, as the blaring siren went on and on, muddling her senses together.

The sight of blood. The smell of blood. The taste of blood. The feel of it on her skin, and the very sound of it in her soul. She was covered in it, and couldn't have escaped if she had really wanted to.

Dazed and confused, she looked down. Beyond her bloody hands, she saw the hilt of the knife her father had just handed her. It was buried in the chest of a mangled body, whose face she barely recognized.

Zared Azan was dead. By her own hand. The gray monsters, empty creatures of darkness, were one thing; but this had been a living, breathing person of flesh, blood, and bone. And she hadn't just killed him – out of vengeful rage, she had hacked him to pieces.

Star hardly had the time to feel horrified, or as deeply ashamed and filthy as she truly was. The realization of what she had done came over her like a wave, and she felt that same new, unnamed, unknown part of herself that was so filled burst asunder. As suddenly as she had felt so dead and so alive at the same time, all she felt was deep, empty darkness.

After that, she knew no more.

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 _Afterthoughts..._

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WHEW

These last few months have been a bother, to say the least. I'm BEYOND sorry for this chapter taking a whole summer to complete; but then, my summers have developed an uncanny pattern of being the whole year's badnesses crammed into what's supposed to be vacation. After five years of this trend, I should have known better...

What happened was, in July, I decided to quit foodservice for a while and try the sale biz. I'm currently writing this last bit after not loking at it for a month, very much under the influence, after what is probably my cue to quit while I haven't caused any irreparable damage and can go home with some semblance of professionalism still intact. I really don't think I could sell my soul if I tired...

So, yeah. I got kind of drunk and finally figured out how to get to this point! This ending moment has been in the works for _yeeeeears_. At just over 10.5K, it is as I predicted back in June – the longest installment of the whole damn thing. Pft, I took wine instead of medication tonight and got it done. I don't care.

PS, don't do what I did tonight. PLEASE, don't do what I did tonight. This is just sad. And my life is a lie. Halp.

Now that _this_ is done, my hope is that the rest comes together a little more gracefully. I do actually know how the next few chapters play out, and its fairly smooth sailing. I suppose we'll see...

In the meantime, content yourself with Zared Azan being stabbed 27 times in the chest. :D


	10. Chapter 9: Explanations

This one is a shortie. I figure we could all use a breather, after that last chapter.

So, to recap the last four books, as well as this one thus far...

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 _Chapter 9: Explanations_

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Distantly, their voices muffled by deep sleep, Star could hear her parents calling her name. She would have known their voices anywhere; and though they seemed far away, their words were gentle and clear as day. Calling her to wake. Asking if she was alright. Did she hear a note of concern? She wondered why, and dimly reasoned that the pounding in her head had something to do with it.

They were asking her to open her eyes, to say something; but the sleep she was waking from had been deep and delicious, and her dreams had been incredible. Unwilling to open her eyes and finish waking just yet, she smiled faintly and just enjoyed feeling the presence of her mother and father nearby. After all she had dreamed, it was nice to feel them both beside her at the same time, the way it should always be.

"Mum, papa," she sighed, "I had the craziest dream..."

She felt her mother's hand on her face, brushing her hair from her eyes. "Oh. Did you, now?"

Her voice was even clearer. Star's senses were slowly returning, and something suddenly seemed off. She was lying bed, but the sheets felt strange in her fingers. A familiar, sour smell of ash and smoke and stale mold was in the air. She knew these sensations, but couldn't think from where. Perhaps she was in her father's study, full of ancient texts, with sitting cushions on the floor, and he was burning incense.

"Mum, you and I went to the Zebak lands, and we started a war," she murmured, smirking at how ridiculous it sounded. "We freed so many people, and I made all these good friends, and I fell in love with the most handsome boy... It was amazing..."

Her father hummed quietly beside her, holding her hand firmly in his own. "That does sound amazing, my Small Star. And how... How did it end?"

She squeezed her eyes tight shut and made a face. "It didn't work. We were all caught. I think the city was destroyed. And the queen – the Titan – she wasn't a Titan at all. It was so scary... And it was so real... I..."

She was going to say that she was just glad that it had all been a dream, and that it was over now – but also that maybe her dream was a sign. That maybe the time had come to help the Zebak in real life, like her aunt and uncle had always wanted to. That maybe, in some ways, her dream had shown the future.

Instead, she opened her eyes at last, happy to see her parents as they really were, and a jolt of shock and confusion shook her heart.

Her mother's lovely face still bore the mark of the Zebak. Her father looked as though he had aged ten years, his face thin and his dark hair streaked with silver. The dim light around them, cast by colored glass lanterns, was hazy with smoke. Other voices nearby could be heard talking and weeping in thick accents and foreign tongues; elsewhere, she could hear them arguing.

She was not at all in her childhood home, safe and as she had always been. She was in the pirate's den, beneath Habaharan city, alive against every odd imaginable. It hadn't been a dream at all. It had been real.

Brought painfully back to reality, Star bolted upright in her nest of silken blankets, all of them feeling grimy with ash. Her pounding head felt strangely light, and she reached to grab for her hair, only to find her hands empty. All she found was a sticky, tangled mess, no longer than her shoulders. The remains of her ruined ball gown were covered in blood, and a deep gash on her arm had been bound in her sleep.

Staring at her hands in horrified bewilderment, she found that someone had wiped them clean; but there was still dark, dried blood under her fingernails, from her final encounter with the man she had hated most in all the world.

Too shocked to speak, she went on gazing at her hands, unable to believe they were her own. Not when they had killed a man so violently, no matter how he had deserved it. Bitterly, she wished that _had_ been nothing more than a fantastic dream – even the many good things she had done, and all the wonders she had seen. Then, at least, she wouldn't be a murderer, and their crushing defeat wouldn't be filling her heart with pain.

Her parents held her close in her silence, at long last, and insisted that it was alright. That they understood. And her mother promised that her worst fear – of having to explain herself to her family and hoping they would forgive her – would not have to be realized. She had already told them everything.

Everything.

In the hours Star had slept, Zeel had introduced their family to Zamiel and his remaining men, and told them all about the rebellion. She had told them about the Crusaders and all the work they had done together. She had told them about Keids and the pirates, and all the reasons they were willing to help.

She had told them about Bhlai House, and how it came to be their home and headquarters. She had told them about Vivi and Zizi, and Evan, too. She had told them about the Arin, and the rest of their lost history.

She had told them about Star and Zan, and how they had grown, and how they had grown together. She had told them about Zared Azan, and why no one was sorry to have him gone.

She had told them of the ball – only the night before – and of how badly it had gone. She had told them just what kind of person Zadina the liar truly was. She had told them what had become of Zamiel's younger brothers, how they had died sacrificing themselves for others.

She had told them that Star no longer had the Earth sigil. That she had given it to Zan for safekeeping, because it had asked her to. That she had been doubtful, and torn over having it in the first place, but that she had been brave and done its bidding in spite of her fears. That it had been lost, carried beyond the city and out of the Dragon Lord's reach, and almost certainly saved because of it.

It was all a terribly long and awful story to have to tell. It began so promising, so full of potential and hope, and went on to go so well. It had seemed that the Zebak had stood a chance against their queen, after all. To have to end with such abysmal defeat and so much death was something Star was glad she would not have to do, after all. At the same time, though, she felt guilty that she hadn't been able to help her mother do it.

"It must have been such a burden," she sniffled, "having to explain it all alone."

"Not so much, actually," Zeel said in her frank way. "The real burden is one I've carried from the beginning: having to hold all this knowledge with no way to share it with our family, wondering if they would ever know it at all, fearing what might happen if they never learned of it. Its wearied me far more than even I had realized. Besides, I was far from alone. Forley helped a great deal in the telling."

It was like a ray of sunshine had beamed into her heart. In fact, she almost smiled. "Forley's alive?" she asked. "He's here?"

Her mother smiled warmly. "We all are. Everyone is here, and perfectly fine. A scratch or two, here and there, and Leah lost her lenses in our capture; but otherwise, our family is together again, and that is enough."

Then she glanced at her husband, sighed shortly, and stood up. "In fact," she went on, "they asked me to tell them straight away when you came around. I won't allow them to swarm you just now, but they deserve to know. I won't be long."

With that, she stalked away into the den; but Star suspected she would be very long, after all. Her mother was clearly putting herself out of the way. Star was now alone with her father, with so much to be said hanging in the air between them. The moment she had been dreading for years had come.

He deserved to be faced, she knew. But after all she had put him through and all she had cost him, she couldn't bear it. All she wanted was for him to go on holding her, like he had when she had been small, and to pretend that nothing really needed to be said.

"You've become quite the little warrior," he commented. "Everyone back home will be impressed, I think."

Finding her eyes filling with tears, Star only nodded vaguely in agreement. She could feel that if she began to speak, she would start blubbering like a frightened baby. Which, in truth, was what she felt like.

"None of them have ever had to fight in a war, of course," he went on, plainly trying to coax an answer from her. "I fear they won't understand at all what you've been through. But thank goodness, I suppose. No child should be put through any of this."

When she still refused to speak, he took her face in his hands tried to pull her gaze into his own. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, now, and looking at her father was somehow even more terrifying than it had been before. She wished she would evaporate, or disintegrate, or melt into a puddle and ooze away between the cracks in the floor.

"Star, look at me."

He was angry now. He must be. She was sure of it. Frightened at last into obedience, Star pulled the final bits of her courage together and looked her father in the eye. There was no anger there at all, though. Only concern, and regret, and an overwhelming love that nearly surprised her.

"I'm not angry with you, Star. I never was. I've been very proud of you from the beginning. You see, you've done something I never could: you listened to the deep magic in your heart, and you followed it. In spite of fears and doubts and loyalties, you trusted it and followed it to whatever end. You have nothing to apologize for, my dear. It is I who should apologize to you."

Star couldn't believe it. She blinked at him, wondering what on earth he was talking about. Her father smiled without humor, having clearly expecting the sensation he had caused, and took her shaking hands in his own.

"The day you returned from the trading trip, all that time ago... It was one of the worst days of my life. Not because of anything you did, but because of all the things I didn't do. I was given the signs, the answers I was seeking, and I disobeyed them all. I was told to let you go, to work wonders in your own way, as you've been destined to from the start; and what did I do instead? I closed my heart out of fear. I scolded you before all creation, when all you had done was speak the truth I was unwilling to face. I passed it off as fleeting feelings, knowing full well that you were right. Your tried to make me see reason, and I sent you to your room for it, like a wicked child who deserved to be punished. I've suffered terribly for it every day since. Not one hour has passed that I haven't longed to beg your forgiveness and set it right."

Star didn't doubt that. Half the world now knew that Rowan the hero was famous for harboring guilt over his mistakes, and even over things that weren't his fault at all. Part of that was from how he had grown up among people who had never really accepted him; but part of that was also just who he truly was inside. All he had ever wanted was to do his part well, and he had all the power to do so; and so, whenever he couldn't, whether by accident or simply because it wasn't the right season for it, he always blamed himself far more than he should.

Star, herself, had never been that way. Not until she had come to Habaharan, anyway, and found more and more responsibility balanced on her own shoulders. She hadn't understood how her father could be so hard on himself all the time, sometimes for things he had no control over. After the long night she had spent in that prison cell, beating herself for all the things she could have done better, she now understood very well. The father and daughter were now alike in more ways than ever before.

"I did try to set it right, that very day," Rowan went on sadly. "I was walking home, away from the village and all its fears and expectations, and I finally realized how wrong I had been to treat you that way. I thought a lot about it on that long walk. By the time I reached the front door, I had changed my mind completely. I had faced my greatest fear, of losing you forever. By then, I had decided to let you go, and in fact aid you in any way I could."

Her eyes went wide. "Were you, really?"

"I stood outside your bedroom door and babbled about it for ten minutes. I didn't blame you for not answering me, but I apologized, and spoke of plans and ideas I had come up with, and asked what thoughts you had about it. Then I opened the door and found you missing. Then we found your cousins all missing, and Unos missing, and the jailhouse empty. While I was wasting precious time, you had done what I no longer had the nerve to do. You had taken your destiny into your own hands, without waiting for fickle help to come along. While I stood around shaking in my boots, worrying over what other people would think, you were busy doing the right thing."

"But... But I took the sigil with me," Star protested, frowning. "I was stupid enough to forget I even had it! I stole it from you! And now I've lost it..."

"You did not steal it, and you know that. You're not stupid, either. In fact, if you had waited another hour for me to come home, I would have told you to take it."

"...Really?"

Rowan shrugged. "Not like it would have been used to any great purpose in Rin. No mountains need moving there. It's been... _happier_ here, hasn't it? Stronger? Easier to speak to? And its lent you its power many times these last few years, hasn't it?"

Star gazed down at her fingers. In moments like these, she would have reached for the gold medallion and asked it for guidance and comfort, and she had grown confident that it would provide. It always had, for her. Without it, she felt lost, and very cold.

"I'm the only one in this land with any right to it, or any knowledge of its ways. I had always thought it was just making do as best it could."

Her father shook his head. "It was no coincidence that you had it, Star. I don't even know what I was thinking, taking it off and handing it to you; in truth, I didn't realize I had done it until it was far too late. Just the same as you weren't even thinking, forgetting about it and taking it with you."

"So, it was all meant to happen. The sigil was also determined to take control of its fate, one way or another."

"Well, there is the scale of a Dragon at its core. A wise Dragon, with the powers of foresight and invisibility at His command. The Lord of Earth is awfully good at getting what He wants, just like you and I. That is why His talisman has always been so fond of the two of us. Its why it wanted to come here, with you – it knew it could work that will through you, in ways it no longer could through me."

Star hummed over that, thinking all the way back to when it had first begun. "Granny said something like that, right before I went to Maris. That your part was beginning, but also ending. I didn't know what she meant, then... But I was also a very different person, that day. Younger, sillier, content with a small place in a small world."

"And certainly not so handy with a sword," her father agreed, settling himself in the blankets beside her. "We never bothered despairing over your training, but Annad was always so sure you could do better, if you only put your mind to it. She will be pleased with your progress."

"Wait... Is she here, too?"

"She chose to stay at Bhlai House, planning our next course of action. Your friend Vivi gave her all the maps she's made, and they've been enormously helpful. Here, see for yourself."

From his coat pocket, he pulled a familiar map and handed it to Star. A wave of memories came to her as she took it. The detailed map of the Central Dungeon, with its manholes circled and surrounded by exclamation points, would have been much more helpful the previous winter, when Zizi and Iris had needed rescuing from its depths. It was still creased all over from when Zan had snatched it, crushed it into a tight ball, and threw it at the nearest wall in frustration. He had grumbled then that he had been aiming for the second floor fireplace and missed, and the rest of the Crusaders had laughed over his irritation.

Her heart ached at the memory, his loss still so fresh and painful; but she had to smile at it. "I'm glad this map served a purpose, after all," she said quietly, passing it back. "So... Who all is left at Bhlai House?"

"Oh, let me think," he said, counting heads on his fingers. "Aside from Annad, Marlie and Shaaran also came with us. They had wanted to join us for the dungeon, but weren't sure how much help they could be there. Your friend Ofelia is with them, helping my sister make sense of all the maps; she was the one who found us and led us there, you know. And then there are the children – Vivi and Zizi... And your brother, of course..."

Star could tell his mind was still boggled by that discovery. She had been, too, when she had first learned how her mother was expecting another child; but since then, she had gotten used to it, and sometimes took it for granted that she had a brother at all. She had often wondered how her father would react, if he ever learned of it. She was nearly disappointed that she had missed seeing the look on his face when he had found out.

"Huh," he said, looking over the fingers he had counted. "I suppose that makes a nice, round seven, as well. I might have known. Nothing ever seems to happen in twos, or fives or sixes. I wonder what wonders that little party is working, just now?"

"Then Vivi is alive, too?" Star asked, her smile growing. "She had been planning a suicide mission, and mum said she had run off to do it during the ball. They were all sure we'd never see her again, and I heard that Forley was furious with her."

Rowan sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair. "She came back, alright, alive and well. I think you'll be happy to know, Forley just about fainted when he found out. He also said something about paddling her within an inch of her life when we get back. Turned into his mother for a minute, which was comical..."

Star peered at her father while he hesitated. Clearly, there was something big on the tip of his tongue, and he was trying t figure out how to say it.

"Was there something else?" she pressed. "Was she... Successful?"

"Phenomenally successful. She planned her mission well, and carried it out perfectly. Almost perfectly, anyway, she skinned her knees and elbows in her escape. A small price to pay, for stealing the Zebak's source of power from under it guardian's nose. And... There is something else, I just..."

He took a deep breath and gripped her shoulders. "I wish there was a more delicate way to put this, but there isn't, so I'll just say it. Zizi found the diadem. He put it on, and the talisman accepted him. Your small, unlikely friend is the new Titan of Fire."

"...What...?"

"I know, I know. All the rest of us are still trying to – even the rest of us Titans – its complicated. What you said before, about the queen not being a Titan, I suspect was only a wise guess on your part; but its true. What do you know about a being called the Shadow Lord?"

"Not much," Star answered slowly. "Only that he is a force of evil, and has a great deal to do with the land to to the south, and now, I suppose, a great deal to do with this land."

"I am afraid so, my Small Star. I've had my theories about it in the past; but when your Zizi suddenly appeared among us early yesterday morning, it explained everything. The Dragon Lords have never been Titans at all – the lot of them have secretly served the Shadow Lord for thousands of years, borrowing dark powers from him that look enough like Deep Magic to fool the rest of the world. I now suspect their many attempts to invade and destroy our land have been on his behalf."

It made sense, she supposed. And she had felt more and more since coming here that something was far from right. Something the whole world had always just assumed was being used to hide something much bigger. The rebellion had been enough to worry about, though, and so she had never bothered trying to find that bigger truth. Now it had been revealed, and was staring them all in the face.

"But _Zizi_?" she stammered. "He's only a little boy! He's not even ten years old, yet! Why would such a power choose him, of all people?"

"That is a good question," her father calmly agreed. "But why would it choose a shy, skinny little boy like me? Or a quiet, unconfident orphan like Doss of Pandellis? Things like age and outward appearance mean nothing to Deep Magic, Star. You know that – you, yourself, have written it very well. All it needs are the right hopes and desires, and the willingness to do what is right, no matter the cost. It found all those things in the rest of us. It found all those things in you. And now, it has found all those things in Zizi. You know the child well by now. Does it really surprise you?"

She thought about that for a long moment, and bowed her head in defeat. "No, I suppose not. It's just so much for such a small boy to carry. And you know what else comes with this magic, don't you? Zizi won't just be the Titan of Fire – he will be king! He will have to put this nation back together, somehow. These people will find themselves looking to a child to lead them. What if they refuse to accept this? It's all going to be so hard for him..."

Laughing lightly at her fretting, Rowan put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "Well, I doubt he will have to do _all_ that by himself. No one expects grown people to lead others without help, not even the Rinf – that is, the Arin, I mean. Anyway, Zizi will at least have Zamiel and his men to guide him. And he will have his sister. And he will have you."

It took a moment for Star to really hear what he had said. Shocked yet again, she looked up at him with disbelief in her eyes.

"Yes, your mother told me about your changing plans, as well. When I really think on it, it was never danger or magic or evil sorcerers I feared losing you to. All those things, I always knew you would face with courage and overcome. It was the simple fact that Rin has always been like a cage to you, and that once you knew freedom, you could never be convinced to return."

"But I would," she blurted out. "If you asked me to, I would come home with you. I know its what our family will want. And Alanis has been fighting me over it for ages. Maybe I should... I don't know. It seemed so much easier, when I didn't have to tell you in person."

"I thank you for your honesty, but be honest with yourself, my darling girl. This city sits in ruin above us, in the clutches of of the most wretched force of our age, but it still holds more for you than Rin ever will. Here, you have a fantastic opportunity. You get to be the one to plant a seed, to tend to it, and help it to grow, and take pleasure in its progress. These people need that from you. And we both know, my people will never allow you to plant anything of your own at all, if they can help it."

Star huffed to herself. "I thought you always said that I'm perfect, just the way I am."

"And you are. You are a marvel in every way. Its just that the Zebak seem to understand and appreciate that, as I do. They wouldn't ask you to change one thing about yourself, would they?"

"No, they wouldn't," she agreed.

"And would your Zan have asked such a thing?"

"...No. Never."

"Well, then. It is clear as day to me that your place is here, as you know it is. To turn back from all that now would be an insult to everyone. And I won't watch my only daughter languish in a place that doesn't suit her. You wouldn't put me through that, would you?"

After all that had happened and all she had seen, it felt like a weight had been lifted away from her. Everything she had feared about facing her father had been totally pointless. She was so absurdly comforted, she finally smiled a real smile, and meant it all the way through.

"You've had a lot of time to think about this," she pointed out.

"You've given us all a lot of time to think," he answered. "You've been unconscious for nearly 13 hours, now."

Star couldn't help it. Her jaw fell open, and felt like it might hit the floor. "That long!?"

"Don't feel badly about that, Star. Obviously, you needed the rest. We all did. And it gave us the time to explain ourselves to each other, and to gather news so we can decide what to do next. Honestly, most of us have spent that time asleep, ourselves. Our hearts and minds have been just as battered as yours, dearest. The time you bought us has been a blessing."

"So," she sighed, "its almost time to go?"

"We can't hide in here forever. There is still much to be done, and only so much time to do in secret. That aside, our remaining seven have only heard from us through me and Zizi, and must be missing us. At least they know we are alive, and making plans of our own."

He reached over to the other side of the nest and picked up a worn basket, setting it in Star's lap. "All that said, lets have you in some clean clothes and ready for another fight. A young lady named Lucy mentioned you liked a tunic of hers a while back, and so she's offered you a few more of her things. Also, a man named Ash wanted me to give you this; he said you forgot it last time."

He passed her a sturdy knife, and she found that she knew it at once. The curved blade was set in a handle of smooth, polished jade, and fit nicely in her hand. It had been gladly offered to her on her first visit to the den, along with Lucy's tunic and a number of other things. She hadn't taken the knife that night, though; she had been borrowing Zan's short sword, and hadn't needed another weapon.

Today was very different. She added the knife to the basket, happy to have it, and promising herself that she wouldn't let let Ash's generosity be wasted.

That idea filled her heart with determination. So many people had given so much for this rebellion, and for her. They had done it because they had pinned all their hope on it. So much had been lost because of it. But the rebellion was not over yet. She was still alive. Some people still believed in them.

There was still hope. There was still a chance. And she refused to let so many sacrificed be made in vain. She was determined to repay them all.

The first real battle of a real war had been a shock. It hadn't happened like she or anyone else had ever pictured it. But it was over, and she now saw how much she had learned from it. The next battle was surely coming – and this time, she would be ready.


	11. Chapter 10: Reunited

Wow! I'm back, and I'm on a roll! We could be finished by Christmas, at this rate! 8D

 _Finally_ , we're going somewhere. I've tried not to bore you with long, tearful, reunions, mainly by giving you too much filler. Its just so nice to be writing from Star's point of view again, I've indulged myself a bit with a little rambling.

On an unrelated note, my own baby brother – the one for whom I began writing _Star's Journey_ for in the first place nearly six years ago – turned 12 today. There are as many years between he and I as Evan and Star, which is a large part of the reason Evan happened at all. Happy Birthday, lil' bro!

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 _Chapter 10: Reunited_

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Not ten minutes later, Star emerged from her resting place. She had left her ruined _habikule_ behind, and dressed in the things Lucy had offered which suited her best. It had been another strange assortment of odds and ends, few of them really fitting for the tasks at hand. But there had been a simple, if not frilly tunic, and a belt, and stained, patched leggings. There had even a pair of nearly new boots; Star wondered if the other girl was now going around barefoot and thought of insisting she keep them, but knew it would do no good. Lucy wouldn't have donated them, only to have them given back.

Besides, who knew if her old, worn ones were still waiting for her at home? There was certainly another battle coming, and it was nice to have shoes that weren't threatening to fall apart at any moment. Aside from Ash's jade knife, thrust into her belt, the boots might have been the best defense she had.

After that, it didn't take long to find the rest of her family. She turned a corner and suddenly found them all, sitting together in a sad, waiting silence. As soon as she appeared, they jumped up and ran to embrace her all at the same time – her cousins, her godfather, her uncle, all just glad to see her alive and awake.

The pirates had clothed and armed them, too, while she had slept. Alanis, Forley, and Leah all looked more like the crew than trustworthy sons and daughters of Rin, but she thought it suited them well for the occasion. Someone had even found Leah a new pair of spectacles, and her frizzy hair was pushed back with a set of goggles to protect them in the future.

So it was odd, by comparison, to see Allun and Norriss in the plain, sturdy clothes of their homeland. Star had nearly forgotten what such clothing looked like. The only items they seemed to have taken from the pirates were extra belts, bracers, and pouches to carry tools in. Useful, practical things.

Who cared, though? It was just so good to see their faces, and hear their voices saying how much loved and missed and had worried over her.

"We have some good news," Alanis announced when the moment had lasted too long for her. "A while ago, Keids said the radios went live again. He said he could feel it, and who could doubt him? We have no way to know from here what's being broadcast, of course; but it must mean that the winds are changing, up there."

"Weird, though," Leah mused. "It's the middle of the night, just now. No station should be sending anything out so late. It must be of terrible importance – and we're missing it!"

Her father laughed lightly and put his arm around her. "Never mind that, my lovely. Remember, your small friends at Bhlai House are probably keeping an eye on things. If recall correctly, your Vivi was worried her radio might be broken; but Ofelia told her otherwise and left it on, waiting for something of use to come of it."

"Yes, other than that wretched crackling noise it was making," Norriss added with a huff. "I can't wait to see what all this is about. I hope its something good."

Plainly, he was fascinated and curious; Star could tell, and it hardly surprised her. It was nice to see them acting as always, in spite of all the griefs and wonders of the previous night and day. The only one behaving strangely was Forley. At the mention of Vivi's name, he had frowned and clenched his fists.

"And I hope that crazy kid is nearby when we get back," he growled. "I still can't believe she abandoned us like that! I mean what I said – when I get my hands on her, I'm going to paddle the living hell out of her ungrateful hide!"

For the first time in her life, Star found herself flinching away from him. She had never seen him so angry before. Indeed, not terribly long ago, she hadn't believed he knew what anger was. He saw the look on her face, though, and that anger was replaced by something like shame.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, tiredly rubbing his face. "I didn't mean to snap like that, but its been a rough time since last night, to say the least. And I was so scared for her. You know how us grown folk can be at times, yelling and threatening our youngsters when they get themselves in trouble, when all we mean is that we're happy to see them in one piece. How I wish I knew why we all become that way..."

The rest all hummed in agreement, not at all surprised by his outburst. Star just went on peering at him in amazement, almost unsure if she was looking at her cousin, after all.

"I've never seen you so serious before," she commented, speaking for the first time. "Once upon a time, I didn't think you had a serious bone in your body."

To that, Forley smiled without humor. "Did you ever think that's how I wanted it to be?" he asked. "I've always taken you very seriously – too seriously, some have said. In fact, I've been just as furious with you before, many times. I just didn't want you to see it. I always waited until I was safely home, and raged about it to someone else, but never where you would know of it."

Star gazed at the other members of her family in astonishment. She could see in all their eyes that this was the cold truth, and that it had happened so often that they had grown annoyed with it in the past. Yet they had understood and allowed it to go on, perhaps far longer than it should have.

"But... But why?" she begged.

Forley shrugged sadly. "People were always so rotten to you, growing up. I suppose I couldn't bear to add my own frustrations to that. Not long after you were born, I made a promise to myself to protect you. You had no older brothers to do that for you, and it seemed so unfair to me. I swore to fill that void, and did so in the only way I really knew how – by filling your life with fun and as many happy memories as I could. It's what you deserved, even in the moments I was angry with you."

It was a cold truth, to be sure. So many moments from her childhood suddenly made sense. Whenever she had been sad or scared or lonely, Forley had always been the first to run to her side, telling jokes and pulling pranks to cheer her up, only to end up in trouble. When other children had bullied her, Forley had stood up for her, and earned many a bruise for it. As she had grown older, he had taken to following her closely and keeping an eye on her at all times; it had annoyed her, then, but now she saw that he had been trying to shield her from very real dangers.

All of that effort had taken time from his own life, and a great deal of punishment. Through it all, she had only ever seen him laughing and smiling, as if none of it had bothered him. As if it had all been one enormous joke to him. He had always seemed to take it so lightly, she had never guessed that was he living his life in real pain of his own, all for her sake. From her point of view, it had been impossible to tell.

Which was exactly how he had wanted it all along. Not unlike his own father, he had lived his whole life wearing a clever mask, only taking it off among people he really trusted. It almost hurt her that she had never been one of those precious few, and to only learn of it now.

"I wish you had told me," she mumbled. "Things could have been so different."

Leah laid a hand on her shoulder. "It changes little, then or now," she told her. "For what its worth, we've all had our own ways of protecting each other. They've never been the usual ways; but we've never been the usual people, either. And its kept us alive, hasn't it?"

That was a much warmer truth, with which they could all be pleased. Star stole a glance at Allun, and saw him glowing with pride over how strong and wise his beloved children had grown. Or perhaps over how strong and wise they had always been, and how good it was that they were free to show it here.

Stomping feet interrupted them, and a band of stern, familiar faces came around the corner. The one that stood apart was John, the only member of her family she hadn't seen and hugged yet. There was her mother, too, and Zamiel and Keids. She could see clearly that the four of them had been arguing bitterly for some time, for none of them looked happy with each other. Just now, they mostly looked happy to see her awake and ready to move on.

"We are going back to Bhlai House," Zamiel informed them after a pause.

"So its been decided?" Alanis asked, excited.

"After some discussion, yes," he agreed tensely, narrowing his eyes at her father, who narrowed his back. "The rest of both our parties are waiting there for us. We have to regroup as soon as possible."

John just scowled and crossed his arms, pinning his gaze at the floor. "I don't like this," he grumbled. "We have enough force right here, in these reeking sewers. I still say that now is as good a time as any to mount our attack."

Zeel made a face at him. "Are you mad? We have no clue what is going on up there! That aside, these people are unorganized and barely armed. They wouldn't last two minutes, storming the palace."

"Pah," Keids spat. "All de more reason, I says, dat all y'all Arin folk stay right down 'ere wit us. We been needin' some d'rection, some sort o' hope an' de like. De crew and all dem sewer folk be needin' ye, if we 'ere gon' come up in de light and fight agains' de foul Dragon Lord."

Before they could start fighting again, Allun jumped between them all and held out his hands.

"Peace, peace, peace, friends, there's no need for more of this, you've been at it for hours," he insisted. "We're all tired and afraid, and at our wits' end with each other; but fighting won't solve any of it. If its decided to return to Bhlai House, then so be it. We have people awaiting us there, including the little Titan. That should be reason enough."

"Not to mention Annad – my wife, by the way – stayed behind to plan the next steps of our mission," Norriss added helpfully. "With any luck, she has the whole thing already mapped out for us. It's more than we have down here, and we certainly can't move forward without it."

Star looked between her uncle and grandfather, and the pirate captain. How did they dare defy the Master of Tides so plainly? Didn't they understand who he was? Apparently not, or they would have been more wary of refusing him anything, or at least been more polite about it. Likely, the only reason he hadn't frozen them solid, or drowned them in midair, was because he hadn't found the time to get their autographs yet.

For that reason and others, she could understand why Keids wanted them to stay. The sewers were always in a state of organized chaos, but the city above them was burning to the ground and crawling with monsters. He was afraid for those of them he idolized, and terrified for those he knew and cared about. And he couldn't join them just now – his own people needed him more than ever. Surely he knew they couldn't stay forever; but he wanted to keep them close for as long as he could. It was his own way of trying to protect them.

"Bhlai House is our base," Star added. "Its our headquarters – our home. I think its right to return, to get our bearings back in a familiar place, and to be together again. Without unity, we have nothing."

The rest all shifted uncomfortably. Looking sheepish and wounded, Zamiel cleared his throat.

"We already have trouble, then," he said flatly. "Not long after we arrived here, Zane and Zirita struck out on their own. It was against my wishes, but they couldn't be persuaded to stay. They both have families lost in the mess up there, and were desperate to know what had become of them. I can't say I blame them; at least I know where my family is..."

So now his squadron of ten numbered only six. Star felt the loss keenly, as she knew her mother and cousins had for a while. Surely the rest of her family sensed it, too, though they hardly knew them. Even John couldn't close his heart to that; he knew especially what it was like to lose beloved comrades, one by one, and be unable to help it.

She didn't have to wonder how her father was feeling about that. She already knew that he must be aching for the squad, who had lost so much of itself in so little time.

It was clear that some members of their now large party still didn't care for the decision; but once Star had voiced her own opinion, it seemed that the final say had been made. Guided for long by Deep Magic, they had come to rely on her for direction, and she had never been wrong about it before. It had even convinced Keids to stop grumbling to himself over not having his way, though he must have known by then that the source of her usual knowledge was gone.

All the same, as they picked up their few things and filed out of the den, Star felt a great rightness in returning home. A sense that Bhlai House was the place they _must_ go, as soon as possible. That it was simply the way things had to be, if they were to reach the final destination in good time. She wondered if she could still reach that deeper, bigger part of herself where that magic had lived. If, after carrying it for such a long time, it had left a mark in her that would never fully fade.

A few days ago, it would have been a relief. Now, in the face of all she had lost and all that remained to be done, it only seemed the bother she had always feared it would be.

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In the past, Vivi had led them to and from the pirates' den many times. In perfect truth, Star and Forley both knew exactly where they were, and the best ways to get home. Forley had even made the journey on his own, once or twice, looking in on rebel he had helped rescue and bringing them news. He had gladly taken the lead, keeping his trembling sister close at all times. More than ever, the narrow sewer streets were filthy and crowded with frightened people.

Star knew very well, then, that a point was coming where they would have to ferry across the murky gap between the streets. It was simple enough, with only a few people crossing. Their party had suddenly grown, though, and now the crossing would take some time. She wasn't sure if they had anything to pay the demanded toll, either.

And she had noticed that some of the usual ferries on their way were abandoned. Who knew if the one they were counting on would be waiting for them?

Sure enough, they came to the place, and a welcome sight met them. Not just one, but three ferry rafts were anchored there, each one captained and ready to take passengers. One was the ill-tempered old man who had ferried the Crusaders on their very first mission together. Another was the younger man he had taken on for help, who they saw more often these days. The third, and her raft, were a new sight.

In any case, they were enough to let the whole party cross at once. Better yet, the younger man had lit up at the sight of them, and began ushering them aboard the crafts without mentioning payment.

"Yeah, Kisa was my idea," he explained to Star and her cousins as he paddled them across. "A while back, this strange old man paid for his crossing with a handful of coins – nearly triple the toll. It let us put some money aside, for once, and we started to save a bit. Soon, we could pay for another raft, and another hand. And now business is booming! We run a better service than most around here. I wish I knew who that man was, and where he is, so I can thank him."

And so it was that their service was the only one fit enough to still be running, using the present chaos to its clever advantage, rather than letting it frighten them into hiding.

Star glanced down at the raft, grateful that this service had the means for decent equipment. The planks and rope under her feet looked fresh, and in good repair. A thought came to her, of a girl named Brenna who the Crusaders had rescued, one fateful night. The girl had mentioned then that her family had been rope makers, before their lives had gone so badly, and had thought to ply that trade right here in the sewers. Star had thought of her often, and hoped she was getting along alright with that idea. Maybe these fresh, new ropes were here because Brenna was here.

It all reeked of destiny. Despite her doubts about her many burdens, Star had to smile over it.

The crossing was unremarkable, and free, besides. Even the shrewd elder refused to think of asking the rebel leader or the Titan of Earth to pay for his service. After that, the journey was straight ahead, and uneventful. The most trouble they had was trying to ignore the sensation their strange-looking company was leaving in their wake. More than once, people reached out to touch them in wonder, and even tried to follow them; but these were always quickly left behind in the crowd and lost, for there was no time to stop and indulge them.

"If you can believe such things," Forley called to the company after a time, "we've just walked right beneath Bhlai House's plumbing. Look up. See all those pipes above us? If you look hard enough, I think you'll see a shiny dangling from one of them. Vivi got all the way up there somehow and hung it there, to mark the way. It seems forever ago, now..."

Star could see that jeweled pendant, winking in the dimness like – well, a star. She had often been thankful in the past that the girl had put it there for them. They had come and gone form this place many time, but the landmarks on the sewer streets were forever changing, and so it all still looked alike to her. If not for that constant guide to watch for, they might have passed their exit to the street above right by, wandered for pointless hours.

As was his custom, Forley ducked first into the little space in the wall and scrambled up the metal rungs there. It must have frustrated him that his dear sister went right after him, desperate for space and fresh air, when anything might have been lurking nearby to catch them. Besides, with that danger present at the best times, it was always Zan who had followed next. Still feeling like she was holding his place, somehow, Star decided to climb the ladder after them, herself.

Seeing how it was, the rest began anxiously forming a line. Zamiel and John naturally jumped for the next place in that line, frowning at each other all the way; but Alanis stepped in front of them, first.

"We'll check to see if the coast is clear," she informed them as she began to climb. "If its safe, we'll call you."

"But why?" Star heard Zamiel demand. When Alanis answered, there was coolness and a sly smile in her voice.

"Because we are younger, stronger, and far less valuable than either of you, just now."

And without another word, she went on climbing. Above, the air was growing cooler and better smelling, but no brighter. As Star knew, it was so early morning that it was still night. The sun wouldn't rise for another several hours. Thank goodness for that; in darkness, the large company could complete their journey easily.

Above her, Forley had pushed the manhole cover away and crawled into the street, pulling the girls up one by one after him. Even in the dark, the sight of the alleyway they knew so well was shocking. Shattered glass and crushed bricks crunched under their feet, and Star quickly found a few splinters in her hand. Though the night air was easier to breathe, it tasted of gunpowder and burning tar, and something foul that reminded her of sulfur. The garbage bins lined up behind the grand houses had all been thrown aside all over the alley, leaving a maze of toppled crates and rubbish to stumble through.

But the place was quiet, and no gray monsters loomed out of the darkness to catch them. Satisfied that they were alone, Alanis leaned back into the hole and whistled a signal to the rest. Slowly, squinting to see their way, Star and Forley began picking their way through the alley, moving the rubbish aside as quietly as they could, making a path to their backdoor.

When the reached it, Forley tried at once to open it. He pushed at it and and the door barred shut. He tried the knob and found it locked fast. For a moment he went on jiggling it uselessly, unwilling to just knock or call out for someone to answer; but when the knob refused to budge, he saw there was no choice. Star reached for her knife, ready for danger, as Forley knocked sharply on the door.

Through the cracked, dirty kitchen window, Star someone stirring. It was only a shadowy figure in the darkness within, and she nearly missed seeing it at all. There came the sound of something heavy being moved away from the door, and the knob being unlocked, and the latch above it being loosened. Then the door opened, and not one but two figures stood there in glad amazement.

One was Ofelia. The other, brandishing an armed bow, was Shaaran. Two of the most blessed faces Star could have hoped for.

"Get inside," Shaaran commanded them at once, stepping out to stand watch. "Get inside, and get upstairs. Quickly, now! Your mother is upstairs, waiting on the edge of her seat to smack you, young man."

"We heard you were coming," Ofelia added as she herded them into the ruined kitchen. "We've been watching and waiting ever since."

Neither of them had to wonder how that was possible. Of course Rowan and Zizi had been talking in their sacred way the whole time. Their friends had probably known the moment when they began climbing out of the sewer. Suddenly, all Star could think of was that Marlie was certainly at the top of the stairs, like a lioness stalking her prey, waiting to pounce and kill them both with all her love.

It was terrifying, at the same time as it was always welcome. She felt that neither she nor Forley were blamed for standing around in the kitchen, watching to make sure their whole company made it safely indoors, before thinking at all of climbing those stairs.

What came next was a long blur of joyful, teary reunions, which Star found that she had been longing for. It was the welcome home she had been so painfully cheated of those years ago, when she had returned from Maris to find her life turned upside down. Somehow, it was better than that homecoming would have been. It was because, she realized, there were so many more people who were happy to see her again, and so much more than just next year's trip to plan for.

She found herself and her cousins being passed from one family member to the next, being hugged and kissed and wept over yet again, and scolded for their recklessness. At long last, her father held both his children in his arms, perhaps tighter than he had held anyone in his life. Forley and Leah quickly found themselves crushed between their parents, happy to be threatened with beatings they were too old for. Then Vivi came running out, a little too unharmed and cheerful for all the worry she had caused; Forley snatched and shook her, screaming nearly word for word every threat his own mother had just shouted at him. That she had scared him just about to death, and how dare she be so foolish, and that he ought to strangle her.

None of those threats were realized, of course. He was too busy weeping over his own little one, overjoyed that she was alive and safe, and even marveling at her foolishness. She promised repeatedly that she had learned her lesson – really, she had – and that she would never do such a thing ever again – really, she wouldn't. Star doubted that greatly, and sensed that her cousin did, too; but for now, it was enough.

This part of the adventure was done, Star realized. The Central Dungeon was empty, and the leaders of the rebellion had escaped with their lives. Her family was reunited, against all odds, and ready to fight alongside the rebels. They had made it back to their base, to pick up where they had left off and start over. All of this had happened before, after all. It could all be done again.

A night, a day, and nearly another night had passed. Yet another day was coming on fast. When it arrived, she knew they would be ready for it.


	12. Chapter 11: The Second Day

_Chapter 11: The Second Day_

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It took some time for the reunited family to settle down; but it began with Ofelia and Annad happily pushing food into their hands. Day old bread, bruised fruits, and smoked meat that tasted of ash were passed around, and not one piece was turned down just because it was damaged. Star was confident that Keids had fed her family in the hours she had slept, but she hadn't eaten since the night before. She ate ravenously, even looking over other people's small handfuls and asking them which pieces they weren't going to eat.

"We made an important discovery, not too long ago," Annad told them while they ate. "I caught a certain young person trying to sneak off to look for something to eat, and – I don't know what I was thinking – I ran out into the street after her. I had hardly grabbed the girl by her sleeve, and... Well, a pair of the monsters came around the corner and spotted us."

At once, her husband looked horrified. "Isn't that what got you in so much trouble last time you were here? You, of all people, should know better!"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry, dearest."

"And how is it you're both still alive? As far as I've seen, those abominations attack anything that moves."

"Things have changed since you looked, then," Annad insisted. "I was frightened, too, and ready to fight for both our lives. I was sure my unmarked face, at least, would be cause for _something_. But all the pair did was laugh at our fear. They called us ticks, and said that we were all the same. Then one of them kicked some rubble after us, but that was all. They went on their way and didn't pay us a second thought. Do you realize what this means?"

It was clear that few of them saw anything important in it. Mostly, they were upset with Annad and Vivi, both, for being their usual, reckless selves. Her brother, however, was thinking hard on it.

"They don't see any difference between human beings, one to the next," he reasoned slowly. "We are as alike to them, as they are alike to us."

"And so it is," she agreed. "Vivi and I went ahead into the streets after that, and gathered the feast you're enjoying now. A great number of people offered things, when we asked. As long as no one caused a scene or spoke too loudly, the monsters acted as though we weren't there; and they didn't give me a second's thought, even though I stick out like a sore thumb."

"The people are coming out of hiding," Ofelia continued for her. "The first broadcast said the lock down is lifted, and that we may go out again. But there is still trouble. Without Central Control to keep order, everything is _hibruse –_ as you say, one big mess."

"Agreed, and very dangerous," Annad added. "Now that they can come out of hiding, the people are just like us: hungry, angry, and desperate. They're looting empty buildings, stealing from one another, picking through garbage for food and fuel. Even valuables with no real use are being pilfered. We saw it everywhere, while we were out."

Zamiel shook his head sadly. "But its freedom. More freedom than we've ever known. Did anyone ask of us?"

Annad just shrugged. "Here and there. Many were commenting about the sunset last night; I didn't know it was part of a coded greeting until Vivi explained it, and I'm afraid I still don't understand."

"A clever idea of my own, miss. The folk on our side know not to trust others who don't answer them in the agreed way. I'm sure they must have wanted to trust you, but now of all times, I don't blame them for being suspicious. I hope no one gave you a hard time."

"No, they gladly offered us anything they could spare. They _wanted_ to be of help; they just didn't want to talk with us. At least, not to me. They were all happy to see Vivi; a few patted her head, and one woman even gave her a piece of candy she had found. That woman was weirdly glad to see her, now that I think of it..."

Then, seeing she had talked herself off course, she shook herself. "The point is, we can walk about safely in broad daylight, without sneaking around under cover of magic. Our clothes, our faces, the color of our skin – its been made plain to me that it doesn't matter to the things set to watch us."

"They are only here to keep the people from acting on any clever ideas of their own," Zeel reasoned. "If only the queen, or at least another human being were doing that job, they would have seen you and known at once that something was wrong. We have an incredible advantage, here."

"Maybe," Annad told her sternly. "Now the question is, what to do with this knowledge? Its only an advantage as long as they _don't_ think there is a difference between us. No one outside this house knows seems of your little jailbreak, so far; but that could change at any moment."

"We need to think quickly, then," Zamiel decided. "Before they know to look for us. What we need is a way to somehow rally the rebels in the city, while we still have secrecy on our side."

"The radio towers?" Leah suggested at once. "They're live again, after all."

"That will take too much time," he answered. "The nearest station is on the other end of Southside, and it will be heavily watched just now, and there is no way to know what might lie in our way."

"Word of mouth will be best, then," Annad told him, as if she had made the final decision. "Your people may be suspicious just now, but they seem organized to me. You've trained the common folk well for this. As long as they know the right way to greet each other, they can get the message around in little time."

Zamiel raised an eyebrow at her, looking impressed. "You've thought a lot about this already," he noticed.

"I heard you like a good plan," she answered smartly. "As it happens, so do I. I took some time to study our maps and makes notes of what I saw outside, so I have plenty more ideas, if you'd like to take a look."

For the first time in days, Zamiel looked positively delighted. "At last, someone else who speaks my language," he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Take me with you!"

"I'll just be borrowing this one, then," Annad laughed to Ofelia, as she hauled the other woman's lover to his feet and toward the stairs. "Oh, you and I are going to have a lot of fun together. Tell me more of Central Control? I've been so curious, even since I was little, I could just die."

"Only if you will tell me more of the Arin lands. I, too, have been overly curious."

"It is a deal, my good man."

"Well, Central has changed a great deal since the last time you were here, let me tell you..."

And the two disappeared down the stairs to tell each other all their favorite stories and make more great plans. Annad and Zamiel hadn't known each other for ten minutes, and hadn't even been formally introduced yet; but they were already getting along like old friends, as Star had always thought they might. Working together, she didn't know what they couldn't accomplish.

"Its a little past three o'clock in the morning, by my reckoning," Zack Rivan said shortly, staring out the window at the night sky. "Whatever plan our friends arrive at downstairs, there won't be any sense in going about it until sunrise, at least. What are we to do until then?"

The silence that answered him was a heavy one. Many shuffled their feet and scratched their heads, wondering the same thing. The obvious thing to do was to sleep, while they still had time; but most had already done that for hours in the pirate's den, and weren't tired. At length, Allun broke that silence by clearing his throat and calling Vivi over.

"Be a friend and look through my pack for a deck of cards," he told her. "I never leave home without one, these days; one never knows when it might come in handy. I'll even deal you in first, for your trouble."

That idea seemed to cheer everyone up. A simple game of cards wouldn't accomplish anything in particular, but it would pass the time, and keep them from worrying through the rest of the night. Arin and Zebak alike were discussing which games they all knew how to play, and which ones they could teach each other, and arguing lightheartedly over who would play first. Zack Rivan was wishing he had a few _dazi_ to wager, only for Zhena to swiftly remind of the vow he had made himself in the dungeon, to never gamble again if he made it out alive. Taking heart in that, he thankfully clapped her on the shoulder and sat down to just watch.

Star was glad of all this, but didn't feel like joining in. That feeling of numbness had returned, and now she didn't feel like doing anything at all, but also like she ought to do _something_. Mostly, she felt a great desire to simply sit alone for a while, without people hovering over her and asking how she was. Darn it, they already knew the answer: poorly, impatient, and still not fully comfortable in her own skin. While her family and friends were distracted with the card game, she got up and trotted down the stairs without excusing herself.

Her first instinct was to go in her room on the first floor and lock the door behind her. When she came down the hallway, she found that this was impossible. Her door had been wrenched open so that the knob had been torn right off, and sagged on a single hinge. Reasoning that she would still be by herself, she stepped into her room and peered into the darkness. It was so thick, all she could make out was hulking shapes, all of them in the wrong places.

She fumbled in the dark for the shelf behind the door, where a candle and some matches had been hidden and left untouched. In that feeble light, she saw her bed and its soft quilt chopped in two. Her desk and chair had been flung across the room, and now lay in splinters. The drawer with her pens and ink had been ripped out and thrown on the floor, leaving a very expensive puddle seeping into the wood. In her small closet, all the lovely clothes Leah had made for her, and her worn boots – as she had feared – had been torn apart and trampled on.

Not as though the monsters had been looking for anything in particular among her possessions. There was no purpose in it at all. Or, perhaps there was, if only because this sort of senseless destruction was all they knew how to do.

Star knelt and pushed aside the clutter of pens and ink, and dread gave way to relief. Just outside the black puddle, unstained and unbroken, was the favorite of all her tools. Crafted of the green plume of a Maris fighter, it was one of the few things she still had from her old life. It no longer gleamed, like it had when she had first found it, but it was still just was brilliant in her mind. It was the greatest weapon she had ever owned.

With some difficulty, she shoved aside the remains of her bed and pulled one of the floorboards away. Beneath it, the several journals she had kept of her own adventure sat safe and intact. So much had happened since she had started keeping them, she was halfway through a fifth one. And now she had so much more to add to it.

She felt that she had found a direction, herself. She made a small space amid the wreckage, and set the candle down on the floor. She sat in its light, opened her latest notebook, dipped the gleaming pen in the puddle of ink. And she did what she loved most in the world to do.

She began to write of how the world's fantastic marvels were reality. She wrote of history's very real wonders, as well as its sorrows, which had happened before her eyes. Thinking carefully and leaving out no detail, no idea, being as truthful as she could, Star wrote more of her own story.

She had no idea how much time passed in blessed solitude, as she carefully, honestly chose the words to tell her tale; ink was difficult to erase, after all, and she only had so much left. When she had begun writing her father's tale, it had often been difficult to find the right words for his struggles. She had often labored for days, knowing full well which words to use, but strangely frightened of putting them on a page and making them tangible. She had overcome that fear long ago. Today, after all she had seen and done and the terrible numbness that filled her, she felt there was nothing too powerful for her to put into written words, to make real for others. A kind of magic she had always possessed.

The candle had burned quite low, by the time a timid knock came on the gaping door. Shaken back to the present from her writing, Star gasped and looked up, and saw a small figure in the dimness. Zizi was standing outside her room, watching her warily, as if afraid to disturb her, but too concerned not to ask.

"Star, you've been – you've been gone so – its been a long time, and – and everyone's all worried," he mumbled. "Are you – you going to – are you alright?"

She set her pen down with a shrug, unable to turn him away. "I suppose I feel better," she answered dumbly. "How is everyone else?"

"Better," he agreed, with a wisdom she had never seen in him before. "Zione finally – she won! She beat – no one could beat Allun. He would always win. But Zione did it! She was really proud. They all were. Vivi couldn't even – she didn't do it. Not even once. She was so mad."

Star had to smile. "He's always been the best at card games... How many games have they played?"

"A lot," he answered, feeling safe enough to come inside and sit next to her. In his small hands, he was still clutching the garish diadem, unwilling to let its most valuable stone out of his sight. "They've been – for hours and hours. I think its been – it feels like days and days. Don't you want to – they all miss you. And Leah said that you – you could have done it. If you had been on their team, you could have – you would have won. Leah said so. She misses you. So do I. We all do."

Star gazed at the open book in her lap, thinking of all the progress she had made. Once upon a time, disappearing like this would have made her feel guilty. She would have been sorry for worrying her family, and sad to have missed out on their fun. She was changed enough now to not feel sorry at all for needing her space.

"I didn't mean to upset her, or anyone else," she apologized anyway. "But I've gotten a lot done on my own. Look, see? I'm nearly to the part where we make it home."

She let Zizi look over the pages she had filled, inwardly glad that he still couldn't read as well as she could. To have him chance across the passage where she had hacked a man apart, like their home had been, and to have him fully understand the words, would have crushed her all over again.

As she had expected, he flipped through those pages without really reading them. Instead, the boy seemed to just admire her neat handwriting, and how tidy the work was. Zizi had always liked looking at her work, even if he couldn't read it. He had always said it was nice to look at, and that it made him feel good about himself. More of the magic she had had all along.

He looked up at her after a minute. Really looked at her, as if searching her face for something. He reached up and thoughtfully touched her short-cut hair, staring at it in a sort of confusion.

"I like it," he said. "It looks – you look good that way."

Not one person had commented on her hair yet. Star had nearly forgotten about it, herself. She glanced over her shoulder at her mirror, thrown against the wall and badly cracked, and finally looked at herself for what seemed the first time in an age. The face that starred back was dark with angst and fear, and the bright, pale blue eyes were red from weeping. Lopped off with a cheap blade and still sticky with products from the ball, all that was left of her mane was a bizarre mass of matted tangles. She looked so changed, just like her father was; and so, in a new way, she was still his spitting image.

She recalled looking in a mirror the first time her false mark had been stained in place, and had felt as though a stranger had been looking back at her. She had grown used to it, though, and even to like it. She had looked in a different mirror, the night before last, with her hair curled and her face layered with cosmetics, and felt that same sensation that she was looking at someone else. She felt it more so than ever, now. It was hard believe anyone had recognized her.

So it was no wonder Zizi sounded so confused. No one could quite picture her without the long, flowing locks she had always been so proud of. The hair of a maiden, innocent and naive of the world around her, untouched by its dangers and evils. The hair she no longer deserved, then.

"It suits me," she mumbled at last. She only realized that Zizi had been trying to cheer her up when he pulled his hand away and fiddled dumbly with the diadem instead. He seemed disappointed that his well-meaning attempt hadn't worked.

"Can I see that?" she asked, holding out her hand for the diadem. Trusting her completely, Zizi nodded and passed it to her, though he did so with some reluctance. Star could feel the Deep Magic it held humming as soon as it touched her skin. In the candlelight, gold and iron shone, and precious gems winked like fire. The metal and stone alone were worth a fortune, or maybe a kingdom; but it was only a headpiece. Anyone could wear the diadem and claim to be important, but those pieces could all be picked apart and sold without a thought. It was no more than another shiny, like Vivi's collection.

Trembling with reverence, Star touched her fingertips to the obsidian talisman. It was so alive inside, burning with a magic so fantastic, so majestic, it robbed her of words. It made her feel at home, the same way as the Earth sigil had. With Zebak blood in her veins, she was heir to its magic as much as any of them. But only one person in the world could claim the magnificent stone's real power.

"I'm so sorry that it had to come to you this way," she sighed, handing it back to its rightful owner. "It isn't fair to you."

Zizi surprised her by shrugging, as if the whole thing was simple. "Its alright. I – I like it. I met the Titans! They were all – they're all my brothers now. I never had a brother before, and now I – I've got three! Rowan taught me to meditate and – and Mithren said to call him just Meeth, and – and Doss says I'm wise and have good ideas."

Then he smirked and lowered his voice as he said, "Rowan says not to call him – I'm supposed to call him the Keeper, but – don't tell him I didn't, okay? I think its dumb."

Star couldn't help smiling back. Zizi may have become a Titan since she last saw him, but he hadn't changed a bit.

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised.

He grinned his thanks, then became serious as he looked lovingly at the diadem. Or, rather, at the obsidian. "I can – I think I can do a good job," he said. "I just want everyone to be happy – everyone, not only us. It just want it to be right again. Like it used to be – in the stories, where its all – where they all live happily ever after. I want to do it. And Doss said its how – its why we get picked. Oh no, I did it again... But he said its why – its what it looks for. The Deep Magic. It likes that, and it – it looks for it, and it finds it in – when we come along. And that's all it – that's what really matters."

"I just wish it hadn't fallen on you, Zizi. Deep Magic is a heavy responsibility. It can be such a burden, at times, and you are such a little boy. Its going to be so hard for you."

Zizi tilted his head at her. "Why? Because it was for you?"

There it was again. That new wisdom, which had certainly come from the talisman. The other talismans – the Arin sigil, the Traveler pipe, the Maris crystal – were also like that. They never chose the equipped, the strong, the obvious. Instead, they always equipped the chosen, the humble, the ones they trusted to wield their power for good. People like Rowan and Mithren and Doss, and now Zizi, who longed for peace and unity and justice for all, not just for some.

People who understood that this was the way the world was supposed to be. People who could see that bigger picture and delight in it. People who were brave enough to put that first, and fight for it, where others would use that power for themselves.

"I know what it means, Star," Zizi went on. "I'm gonna – I get to be king, now. That's pretty amazing. I don't – I'm not sure how I'm – or what I should do next, but we'll all – we'll figure it out, I guess. We always do. And we always win. Like Allun wins at cards. But first, I – I already know what to do right now."

"Really? And what's that?"

Zizi hugged the diadem close and beamed at her. "I'm gonna use the – I'm gonna fight the Dragon Lord! With Deep Magic! Her magic is fake, but mine is – its real. _Really_ real. I don't know – well, I guess no one knows how yet. We'll know when we see it. But that's okay. I'll use my magic to fight, and – we'll be alright. We'll all be alright. I promise. A king's supposed to – kings protect their people. They love their people. And boy, do I love mine. All of them! I'm gonna use my magic to keep them safe. That's all I know. That's okay, too."

And so it was. He made it sound so easy. He had only been Titan for two days yet, and had so much to learn of magic; but he strangely understood it better than anyone else Star had ever met. Because he was just a child, he was able to believe in its beauty and wonder, and simply trust that it would prevail. Moved by all this, she put her arm around him and pulled him close.

"The faith of a child is a remarkable thing," she commented. "Too often, we take it for granted. You know, the very day you appeared in Ofelia's attic, I got a funny feeling about you. Somehow I knew you would turn out to be far more than you seemed. I certainly hadn't expected it to be all this, but I'm glad it did. You were well chosen, Zizi. I daresay, there was no one better for the job in all the land."

For a long moment, they sat together and enjoyed that knowledge. Then Zizi jumped to his feet and tugged at her arm, trying to haul her up.

"Come here. Look at this. You're gonna – I bet you want to see."

Unable to turn the littlest Titan down, she let him pull her up and out the door. He led her through the house and into the common room, where she was surprised to find she could see her way without her dying candle. He brought her to stand in front of the wide, broken window, where the sad, empty street sat sullenly outside.

"The sun is rising," he said, pointing out at the sky. "There's clouds, but – but its there. You can see. Its morning. A whole new day."

Just as Star was taking heart in this, a din erupted from the kitchen. Annad and Zamiel had been there, quietly working on their plans. All at once, a host of other familiar voices had joined them, along with the sound of the backdoor creaking open. Zane and Zirita had returned, and not at all alone. Star also heard Misha, and all three of Zane's children crying and babbling in fright. Curiously, she also recognized the voices of Seth and Spencer, who ran the rebellion's secret presses, and the voice of Porii, their grandmother.

They were alive. They were all alive! Star and Zizi left the window to peer into the kitchen, and it was impossible not to be cheered by the gathering there. They were by turns rattled by all they had survived, overjoyed to see their leader, and alarmed to be suddenly face to face with Annad of Rin. None of that had stopped her from holding out her hand to the children, saying hello and asking their names. The two little girls had shrunk away in fear to cling to their father, and their young brother went on wailing in his arms, refusing to be comforted.

Zane heaved a terrible sigh and held his children closer. His whole body was ridged, and his eyes were downcast.

"My wife is dead," he announced, sounding dead, himself. "She defended our children to the very last... It wasn't enough, but she gave everything she had to keep them safe."

"The same can be said of my husband," Zirita added, resting her head on Misha's shoulder. "Korus never had anything to do with the rebellion, but they cut him down, anyway."

"Not before he saved my life," Misha went on. "We heard them coming, and he pushed me and Lola both into a cupboard behind a closet in his office. It was just in time, too. They missed be by a breath, but Lola... She wasn't fast enough... Korus never stood a chance. I think he knew it, too. He tried, but..."

"It wasn't enough," Zamiel finished, devastated as his friends were.

"We escaped by a miracle, ourselves," Spencer added quietly. "We weren't going anywhere, until our grandmother said she had a funny feeling. Something deep in her bones, telling her to just _go_. So she followed it, and we couldn't think of leaving her, so we followed, too."

"And it led us to Zane's house, of all the fortunate places," said his brother. "We don't know how she knew to go there, but... Anyway, it was nearly perfect timing. The children were hiding for their lives, and would have been all alone if _eb'ati_ hadn't thought to go there."

Zirita peered at the brothers gravely. "And surely it put you safely out of the way for an attack of your own," she guessed. "Have you been back...?"

To this, Seth shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Its only three generations worth of books and rarities, and a few patched-together presses. It can all be replaced, in the years to come. The important thing is, none of us were hurt."

Which was a blessing, compared to what their friends had lost. But Star looked over the faces of the three librarians, and saw that they were hurt, indeed. Their livelihood, and the work they were all so passionate about, had clearly been destroyed like everything else. Star felt her heart sinking for them, as she recalled the many books she had borrowed from them, and all the pleasant afternoons she had spent with them in the past.

In fact, it hurt so that she gasped before she quite knew it. Just like that, all eyes were on her and Zizi, and it all began all over again. More relieved reunions. More awkward introductions. More explaining that the rest of her family was there. More people asking how she was, and more having to answer that she was okay when she clearly was not. But what else was there to do, really, to fill all the time they had?

Bhlai House was suddenly very full, she realized. People of all ages, shapes, and colors were crowding into it, as if they were drawn to it. Star supposed it made sense; the house had become their base, and the rebels were used to gathering there for all manner of reasons. Still, it worried her that they might come flocking to the place as if it were a beacon. There was little food, few supplies, and next to no cheer to go around. If they came looking for hope and answers, they would be bitterly disappointed.

"How are all your plans coming along?" she asked her aunt, looking over all the papers on the kitchen table. It seemed a cluttered mess to her; but Annad appeared to know what each paper was, and picked one up right away to show her.

"We've made a lot of progress. It's nice having someone who knows which resources are where. Look at this one," she said, pointing to where buildings on the map had been circled. "Military storehouses. Powder and ammunition for cannons will be stored in them, among other useful things. Zamiel believes those doors will be sealed by magic, but that is clearly no problem for us. We can arm the common folk, and take control of the walls this way."

In spite of his own grief, Zane had paused to listen and was thinking it over. "I believe you will find the cannons in disrepair, these days," he cautioned. "With the advent of magicite technology, such things are being abandoned. The stones are far easier to transport, and don't require a store of ammunition. I'm afraid the cannons left on the wall are mainly for history's sake."

"Yes, we've already discussed this," Zamiel agreed heavily. "But they're hardly ancient, and neither are the stores in those buildings. They can still be used to some effect; as a distraction, perhaps. Besides, the people will prefer to do something at least appearing to be productive, than to do nothing at all. That mission could put some of our hotter heads to work and out of the way, before they do anything foolish."

Annad stared at the map, and then smiled humorlessly over it. "It's a strange and funny thing. Zebak cannons are legendary in the west. They still tell tales of them that give even the boldest children nightmares; I had a few, myself, when I was small. Hard to believe the damn things have been retired and put on a shelf. Hard to believe someone's found a way to kill people faster..."

Hating to see her aunt this way, Star gripped her hand. "There's one big difference, though," she said. "Cannons can't heal. Cannons can't undo their own damage. Cannons can't be used to make the world a better place. Magicites can. They've been used to harm others, certainly; but I've also seen them used to save people. Someone with a magicite in hand has a choice. A cannoneer does not."

Except for now, perhaps. Very soon, those cannons would be used to make the world better for the first time. The more she thought of it, the more Star liked this idea. In fact, she wondered if Zamiel might let her have a hand in leading that mission, if she asked. Now that she was rested and had some strength back, she felt more like her old self. More like one of those hotheads who needed a useful task to fill their hands with, before they did something disastrous.

A crackling noise in the corner caught her attention, and she looked to see that the one working radio in the house had been placed on the kitchen counter. No doubt someone had brought it to Annad and Zamiel, so that if there was another broadcast, they would know it first and add that knowledge to their plans. As it was, they were both thrilled to hear it.

"It's been dead silent since midnight," Annad commented. "How do you get it to do something helpful?"

Before anyone could answer, Pila – Zane's eldest child – stepped forward and began turning the dials without being asked.

"Like this," she supplied, making sure the woman was paying attention. "You've got to turn it, and turn it, until you can hear it clearly. See?"

It must have made Pila feel a little less small to know something which Annad fo Rin did not. She didn't seem proud or impressed, though; just baffled, as if she were explaining to this grown person how to add three and four to make seven. Annad simply smiled and said thank you, as she took her place at the table with the other adults to listen.

As was the custom with the Zebak, the grown folk were sitting on the long benches around the table, while the children settled themselves respectfully on the floor. Even Zizi, their new Titan and King, sat with his friends on the cold, dirty floor. He stared meaningfully at Star as she tried to sit with them, and she realized that he had done this to leave a space for her.

Because she was 16, and grown, by the laws of this land. Feeling awkward, she slid onto the end of the bench beside her aunt, wondering if she belonged there, after all. Meanwhile, the radio signal still wasn't clear, and Seth and Spencer were fiddling with it in vain.

"What if the wires are scrambled?"

"I don't know, the lady said it came through last time."

"But that was last time. Maybe it was dropped or something, since then?"

"Stop messing with the tuner dial, man, I could almost hear it properly that time."

"Did you try flipping the back switch on and off again?"

"That's stupid."

Tired of their fussing, their grandmother forced her way between them, brandishing her cane to scare them out of her way.

" _Takusk_ – you smack," she proclaimed in her thick accent, hitting the radio smartly with her cane. As if by magic, by law that mothers must always be right, the signal became clear. A familiar jingle heralding the morning news was playing, and Porii was looking very pleased with herself.

"There is your box, all fix," she dismissed, taking her seat again. "Now we hear. And they hear. Maybe we die soon," she complained, as always. As she sat down, the jingle ended, and a voice took its place.

Not the usual voice, though. They were all used to the confident voice of a trained newsman on this channel, ready to begin the morning report every day at seven o'clock. The voice was different today, but not unknown. It belonged to that popular gossip columnist, who had successfully take that column from the papers to the radio stations, with mixed feelings from the rebels. No one wished her ill, but many found her obnoxious, even sniveling, when the queen came around; and none of them appreciated her ever-changing theories on who and where they were, and what they might be up to.

The woman's tone was normally simpering and overly bubbly, as though her head was full of hot air instead of brains. This morning, it was quavering and timid, with the sound of someone reciting words that had been prepared for her. She was trying to sound normal, Star could hear it; but she sounded terribly afraid.

" _Good morning, citizens. It is seven o'clock in the morning, of course, after another night of chaos and turmoil in the city streets. An uneventful night, however, in spite of curfew lifting earlier than anticipated. This curfew, planned to lift later on this afternoon, was moved ahead to earlier this morning, as many have already heard. The Dragon Lord, in her graciousness, has allowed this for the certain few to, in her own words, gain a head start in their survival. Truly, a blessing for which we all can be grateful."_

She usually praised the queen like this on purpose, and always sounded sincere about it. Today, she only sounded blank and hollow.

" _The state of things is still as frightening as it was yesterday, with very little to report. The Central housing district in Northside has been all but burned to the ground, with similar districts in other areas left little better. An estimated 4,000 officers have since been arrested – a staggering 1,500 increase from just last night. This does not account for the nearly 2,000 Central children repossessed, nor the unnumbered household servants seized in the last two two days."_

Annad gasped and clenched her fists. "That was why people were so glad to see Vivi," she realized, looking ready to weep with dismay. "I thought it was odd to see no other children about, but I thought nothing of it then..."

She was unused to hearing people spoken of like own-able property this way. Star had been revolted by it in the beginning, too, but had learned to tolerate hearing it. There was little to be done about it, in this place. Seth held his finger to his lips, begging her to be silent, and turned the volume up.

" _In the meantime, citizens can rest assured that the traitorous rabble of Central Control is being dealt with, properly and orderly. Our benevolent queen wishes her people to know that they will never be cause trouble for us again. Since their flawlessly orchestrated capture, some 2,000 have been done away with for their crimes against our queen, with only a handful remaining to be, in her words, put away."_

Zamiel's mouth fell open. "2,000?" he gasped, horrified. "That's more than half of us! I could have stopped this..."

Zirita gripped his hand, and shook her head gravely. "No. No, you couldn't have."

All heads bowed in sorrow. Zirita was right. There was nothing anyone could have done to prevent Central Control's capture and slaughter, and it was pointless to blame themselves for it. They had only done their very best with what they had been given. What more could be asked of anyone?

"This was a mistake," Zamiel whispered. "A terrible, terrible mistake. I should have known better – that nothing, _nothing_ can stand against the Dragon Lord. I should have left my grand ideas in my own stupid head, where they belong."

Annad tried to reach across the table to him. "Zamiel, don't – "

"Our city wouldn't be destroyed," he babbled. "Our people wouldn't be dying. Our children would be rounded up and herded away like dumb beasts. Nyoma, and Korus, and my little brothers would still be alive! I wish I had never started this rebellion. It's only led us headfirst into our own doom. I wish I could turn back time and talk some sense into myself!"

And to that, Zirita scowled and shrunk away from him. Star had never seen her particularly angry before. Now, she looked absolutely furious.

"Then I wish I could turn back time, and tell myself to start it in your place," she told him, an uncommon coldness in her voice. "I knew even then that something like his was bound to happen, and it frightened me to my very soul. From where I stand today, I would rather lose everything fighting, than let my old, sad life go on another day. This is a dark day, Zamiel, and we've already lost so much; but we've lived to see others, and we haven't lost everything yet. I'll be damned before I see you give up like this!"

The rest all shared her feelings. Star could see it by the fire in their eyes, fueled by all their sacrifices, and a growing desire for revenge like her own. But Zamiel had suddenly become so small, as if he was trying to disappear altogether. He had carried the weigh of the rebellion on his own shoulders for so long, and had carried it so well; and now, he was crushed under the weight of his failure. Perhaps it would have been odd if he wasn't wishing himself and all his friends back in time.

Star chose to allow it for now. There was no reason to try and console him; it would only seem cruel to do so, while all he could feel his consuming guilt. She knew that Zan would never have stood for such talk. If he had been there, he might have slapped his oldest brother across the face and snapped at him to pull himself together, though it wouldn't have helped anything. Even if she was holding his place, she couldn't think of doing that to him now.

She couldn't help wishing she could go back in time, herself, as the reporter went on and on about the damage and casualties around the city. If she had known what would happen next, she would have hugged and kissed Zan a few more times. She would have given anything to tell him how much she loved him, just one last time, before he had been sent away to die in the wilderness. As it was, she couldn't remember the last real word of any consequence she had said to him. But it hadn't been a goodbye, or a promise to meet again, or anything of value. Whatever it had been, it hadn't been worth remembering.

The last time he had seen her, she had been shaking and weeping with fear, laying helplessly at the Dragon Lord's feet. He had been devoured alive by a savage beast by now, believing that his sacrifice for her had been in vain. Believing that all his hard work and changes of heart for his brother's rebellion had been for nothing at all.

The idea made Star want to cry, but she pushed that grief away and let it fuel the rage in her belly, instead. Zan would never know that she had survived to fight again, but she was determined to honor that. They had promised each other that they would never give up, even if the worst happened; but the worst _had_ happened, and she had endured, just as she had promised. There was nowhere left to go but straight ahead, now, and she refused to look back a second longer.

" _That concludes the morning report,"_ the reporter was saying, her voice loud in the heavy silence. _"Now, for the weather. And... Well, my goodness, what weather we are having today. Not quite clear enough to see last night's sunset, I'm afraid; the clouds still haven't lifted, even enough to see the sunrise. But perhaps it will be clearer this evening, and we will see the sunset tonight? I'm sorry, I'm not really the person for this..."_

She was no weather expert, to be sure; but it was the most riveting weather report any of them had ever heard.

"Did she just say what I think she said?" Misha exclaimed. "Or was I dreaming?"

"The password," Zane agreed. "She knows it! She's speaking to the rebels – she's trying to rally them!"

Without warning, Zamiel slammed his fists on the table and snatched a pile of papers, crumpling them and throwing them in a flurry on the floor.

"Well, someone get to the station and tell her to stop it," he snapped, jumping up and storming away. "Before more of us throw our lives away in a senseless fight."

As Star watched him go, she recalled something Alanis had said recently, and saw how right she had really been. Zamiel Garased was a born leader, but he was not fit to be a king. He refused to share responsibility for anything; and so, while confident in success, he was always crushed by even his small failures. He took them too personally, and let them distract him. In the blink of an eye, all his best qualities had vanished; and now, all he could do was despair.

He was an obvious choice for king. He was the one everyone expected for it. Fate would not have favored him, though. In the end, he suited it as well as John was suited to carry the Earth sigil, or Asha of Umbray to be Keeper of the Crystal. They, too, were obvious choices, and they would have done their very best; but they clearly weren't the _right_ people for the task.

And now the people had heard the call from their own radios. Without a doubt, they would answer it. They would rally to their captain, looking for solutions and plans and directions, because Zamiel always had them. They would come looking for their king. And all they would find was the shell of a man they would have once followed to hell and back, and a small, stuttering child being led by blind faith.

Maybe they would answer to their one true Titan. Maybe they would be convinced to share his unsinkable faith. Maybe they would not.

Only time would tell.


	13. Chapter 12: The Third Day

I think I knew that Christmas would end up being out of reach, the moment I suggested it. It's always the same story. However, I think you can tell that I'm filled with the Christmas spirit by the second half of this chapter. I've made it ooze with imagery and references to the coming of Christ, which is overly fitting for content that was written a month and a half after I started working on it. It was not at all in the plan, but its Christmas and it looks good.

Just, you know, subtle mood shifts. I'm knee-deep in an "OMG, Jesus is coming, y'all!" aesthetic right now, and its showing in literally everything I'm up to.

All that said, let's skip ahead to the next morning.

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 _Chapter 12: The Third Day_

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The dreary morning dragged on in a slow, sad blur. Star had continued her journalling until there was nothing new to add to it. She believed her father had finally cornered Zane and had a long, redemptive talk with him. Annad had gone on mapping out the city and making plans, though she had done so with Seth and Spencer's help, instead.

Otherwise, very little she could see had been accomplished.

The afternoon report had promised rain, which had begun shortly after. The only way to know for sure what time it had started was by the radio announcement, for there were no working clocks left in the house, and the sun was still impossible to see through the clouds. The bells in the city's greatest tower had sat silent through the noon hour, and the five o'clock hour, and later through the midnight hour. It was easy to imagine they might never ring again.

Every now and again, there would be a cautious knock on the battered front door, and one of the city's rebels would be standing outside. They had all come offering food and water, asking after their fearless leaders, and begging to know if the rumors were true – if Rowan of Rin and all his usual heroic companions had _really_ come to Habaharan, if they were _really_ at Bhlai House, and if they could at least get a look at them all.

That news seemed to have spread with alarming speed, much like their tales had before. A few people had found their wish granted, whenever one of the Arin happened to be standing watch on the first floor. One lucky couple had even found Annad and Marlie following them out of the house to hunt for supplies. They had returned shortly with food, fuel, and bandages, and had only their overly willing guides to thank for it.

After that, it had seemed that people had come around more often for a few hours. Even when the rain had changed from a petulant drizzle to a pelting shower, rebels had continued to knock on the door in a steady stream. Nothing could have kept them away from a chance to meet the people who had inspired them, who they now counted on having a hand in delivering them.

On the rare chance someone actually remembered to ask after Zamiel and his men, excuses and promises to pass kind thoughts along to them had been made. None of the rebels seemed to mind, especially not the bright-eyed young woman who had the chance to shake Allun's hand and stand in his presence. They all must have assumed that their leaders were hard at work planning their next move against the Dragon Lord. Knowing the truth of what had happened to squadron C-57 would have devastated them.

This had gone on until the evening report had suddenly ordered a curfew, commanding all citizens to return to their homes for the night. Or, whatever shelter they had left to use, the report had clearly meant but hadn't said. After that, it had become almost serenely quiet at Bhlai House. At least they had been fed, and had been somewhat comfortable, even though the house was fuller than usual. Despite all her sleep from the previous day, and a long day of doing nothing at all, Star had been exhausted and quite ready for a long, normal sleep. There had been exactly nothing else left worth doing.

And so she had taken the pillow and half the blanket from her ruined bed and let the pattering rain lull her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She woke abruptly in pitch blackness to two sounds. One was the rain, just as heavy as she remembered it. The other was a loud banging on the front door, which was followed by nearby footsteps and the sound of a blade being drawn.

Star peered out of her room and down the hallway, where the light of a lantern lit the space before the door. Allun and Marlie must have been taking a turn on watch, because they were both standing there with weapons at the ready. He was unbolting the door, opening it open a crack, and peeking cautiously at whoever was outside.

"What in heaven and earth are you doing here, child?" he asked in surprise. "Curfew hasn't lifted yet. Hurry home, before the guards see you, and come back when the sun has risen. All your heroes will still be here, I promise."

"Forley, what are you talking about?" a familiar voice squeaked back. "It's me, Junie, your friend. I have to see Star. Where is she?"

Her heart leaping with gladness, Star darted down the hall and grabbed her godfather's arm. "Its true, she is our friend," she insisted. "My best friend, in fact. Please, let her in!"

Unable to turn her down when she was finally so excited, he put his knife away and stepped aside, letting the other girl in out of the rain. June had a dripping canvas sheet thrown over her head, but Star didn't care. She threw her arms around her at once, overjoyed.

"I was so worried about you, June. I was scared I might not see you again."

"Speak for yourself," June answered. "The queen had you right there! We were sure she would have done away with you, the first chance she got. How did you survive?"

"Only by a trick of destiny, I think. Are you alright? How is your mother? What's happened with the rest of your house?"

June shrugged the sheet off her shoulders and shrugged. "Fine enough, until last night. We just heard about the jailbreak – some guards were sent to tell us the news. Oh, did you hear about my master? He's dead! The general is dead, and our whole house is free! Can you believe it? It seems silly, when we're still being attacked like this, but... It's just been so long, since my life was my own."

Joy turned nearly back to numbness. Of course, June had no way of knowing the very person she was hugging was the one who had brought about her freedom, let alone how she had done it. Star wanted to blurt out the whole truth; she was almost curious to see if her dear friend's love would turn to loathing for what she had done. But June plainly had no time for that, because she was going on about her own troubles and wringing her hands.

"At least, its sort of my own again. My sister is beside herself about it, of course. She's taken over the house as viciously as you could guess. Not one person has had food or water since we heard the news – she says its what the general would have wanted. And I'm in real trouble, now. Without our master to protect me, she's out to kill me for sure. I've spent the night creeping around the house, from one hiding place to the next, just trying to stay alive. I only now got away to find you."

Star gripped her friend's shaking hands, forcing her own worries away. "Well, you're safe here. So, the queen finally found out about the jailbreak?"

"I think its why the curfew was ordered," June agreed, her cheerful face grave. "Its so they can search for you in peace, I just know it. Surely, they've known it for a while, but something's kept them held off. You must have an idea or two about that, right, Forley?"

She looked over her shoulder, expecting to see faces she knew. The ones she saw were very much like Forley and Leah's, true; but she could see at once that they were not who she thought they were. Older and wiser, unmarked and dressed in strange clothes, they certainly were not her friends. June's pale green eyes went wide, filled with understanding, and her hands flew over her mouth.

"But you... Then, you're... So the rumors – its all real?"

Allun laughed and put his arm around her. "As real as that pretty nose on your face. Come along upstairs, then, friend. Let's get you dried off, and put some food in your belly."

"Agreed," Marlie added, joining her husband in hurrying the girl toward the stairs. "We don't pretend to know exactly what you've been through, but it sounds like you've earned a rest."

Grinning ear to ear, June just mumbled her thanks and let them haul her along. She looked like someone stumbling through a wonderful dream, like many of the visitors before her. Allun the baker and Marlie the weaver weren't just touching her, but doting on her as if she were their own. It was a dream for many of Habaharan's hurting, lonely children, come true.

Star followed behind them, letting her friend live out that dream for a moment. When they reached the second floor, she stood aside and watched as yet another round of introductions and explanations were made for the newcomer. When June had been standing outside, she had spoken with urgency in her voice; it had sounded like she wanted more than to just see if her best friend was really alive, but like she also had something terribly important to tell her. Happy reunions and peasant surprises and the promise of food had driven it from her mind, for now.

Whatever it was, Star figured there would be time enough for it soon. No one could explain anything properly on an empty stomach, as they had all learned from Vivi. After being starved and hunted like a wounded animal, it was only fair to let June eat her fill and get used to the people around her, first.

"The rebels are pulling themselves together," she said shortly, still cramming dry biscuits into her mouth. "Central may be lost, mostly, but the people have been hard at work the last two days. I heard there's been a lot of word going around. Stations are being assigned, and everyone's doing their best to get to them."

Zane and Annad looked between each other and smiled smugly. "We're glad to hear the people are following our orders," he said. "We haven't gotten much done, but we've given instructions to as many people as we could."

"Yes, as many weren't too dazzled to follow them, anyway," Annad agreed. "You see? We told Zamiel we could pull it back together. But he... Isn't exactly in a listening mood, himself."

June looked up at her with a strange expression. "Why shouldn't he be? The losses have been terrible, certainly; but he knows he can count on the rest of us. And he has you – all of you."

The rest of the company grew very quiet. Some became downcast. Others shrugged and scratched their heads. There was no easy way to explain how the man's grief had consumed him, and none wanted to crush June's hopes by telling her that he refused be the leader anymore.

June seemed to understand that something was wrong, but shook her head over it and reached for another biscuit. "Well, I'm sure he'll come around when his little brother gets back. He must be worried sick, what with Zan running around in the dark and rain – you know how those two are."

If she suddenly felt the weight of the world hanging over her head, it wasn't surprising. Every eye was pinned on her, wide with confusion and disbelief.

"Say that again?" Zara asked tightly.

No longer understanding in the slightest, June frowned over the crowd. "What did I say?" she begged. "I can guess you must be worried about him by now, but Zan is fine. He said he was on a mission; part of it was to tell me to come here, and he promised he would follow me shortly. He said he would have come with me straight away, except that he still had things to do. He's been running around the city since morning yesterday, rallying the people. But, you know all about that, of course."

Zione crept to the girl's side and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Dear little Junie Barsa, listen to me. Zan isn't... I'm afraid we lost him, girl. He... Didn't make it. Not even into the dungeon. You were only dreaming, I think; perhaps the brave spirit of our Lion Man visited you in your sleep. However it happened, it was not real."

Star's heart was crumbling. No one had spoken Zan's name in front of her in two days. He was on all their minds, but his loss was still so raw and painful, no one could seem to talk about it. To hear her best friend babbling on as if he were still alive was nearly cruel.

But June was staring back at the shorter woman as if she were crazy.

"That's not possible," she scoffed. "I just saw him, not half an hour ago, and he was real enough, then. Two other members of the house saw and heard him, too – they helped me escape. When he said he was sent on a mission, I assumed that _you_ were the ones who sent him."

Unable to bear such talk any longer, Star clenched her fists and stamped her foot on the floor, suddenly furious enough to hit someone.

"Don't assume things, June," she growled. "It only makes an ass of you and me, both."

June sighed, exasperated, and tried to approach her. "I know. You've said so many times in the past. But whatever it was you _assume_ you saw, I _did_ see Zan, and I can prove it to you right now."

Not completely knowing what she was doing, Star shoved her away with all her strength. June was so shocked and so hurt, she almost fell to the ground; but Star was so angry, she almost felt it served her right for mocking them this way. Trembling, she sank to the floor and buried her face in her hands.

"Stop it – just stop it!" she cried. "I've spent the last two days making my peace with it! I was nearly ready to move on, and fight again, like I promised I would! But can't you see ts killing me? Why must you torment me like this?"

Almost at once, she felt terribly ashamed of herself. She was sure that her best friend would creep away from her, and maybe not speak to her again. Instead, she felt June kneeling before her, holding something up for her to see. In spite of her shame, Star looked up, wondering what could make her friend be so forgiving.

And there before her eyes, positively glowing in the fire light, was a gold medallion hanging from a faded silk cord. Behind it, June's face was so serious, it was nearly scolding.

"Do I even want to know what he was doing with this?"

Star stared back, speechless. She was filled to bursting with thoughts and feelings and questions that all contradicted each other. At an absolute loss, she reached for the medallion, its weight and smoothness filling her palm with aching familiarity.

"But it can't be... It's not possible...!"

Her father appeared beside her, snatching it hungrily from her hand. There was no astonishment or disbelief in his face; only an otherworldly relief. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, as if inhaling sweet incense, drawing much-missed power from the medallion. It seemed that he, too, was glowing with strength and joy and courage, and every other good thing the Earth sigil stood for.

"Oh, but my darling Small Star," he whispered. "It _is_ possible."

When he opened his eyes, it was like a decade's worth of trials and pain had faded from them. In its place was the gleaming, golden sheen of earthen magic. With a start, Star realized that her father had suddenly regained the ability to move a whole mountain with only his bare hands and tremendous will. An ability which was his by right, which Fate had allowed her to borrow all this time.

While the rest of the company exclaimed in wondrous joy over it, Star and June remained on the floor, staring at each other in the depths of confusion.

"I don't understand," Star said quietly, hugging her knees to her chest. "I saw it happen. The queen worked her will, planning to send _me_ away into the wastelands, to be devoured by the ishken. But Zan jumped between us, and... She sent him away, instead. He vanished before my eyes."

June stared hard at her. "So, you didn't actually _see_ him die."

And Star stared back at her, hardly able to believe what she was saying. "But alone, in the wastelands, surrounded by ravenous beasts? No one can survive that. It's why the queen chose it."

"I don't know, Star. A few people in this room have survived a whole night out there, and then a long life afterwards. If anyone could do it, it's Zan. Look who's telling who not to assume things."

Star pinned her gaze on her knees, too sheepish to look her friend in the eye. Maybe it made sense... But entertaining the idea was so outlandish, so fantastic, it seemed stupid. Nothing more than the desperate hope of a wounded heart, wishing to turn back time. A hope too ridiculous to put her faith in, no matter what proof there was.

But June was also frowning. "What I don't understand is, he told me he was _sent_. He kept saying it, over and over again, as if he couldn't contain himself. And he was so happy – so excited. Of course I figured it was about the jailbreak, and that Zamiel had tasked him with seeing to the people. What else was I to think? But, if you didn't send him... Who did?"

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Star wanted to believe it. Truly, she did. The idea that her love might have survived and cleverly found his way back into the city – back to her – was so tempting to trust. But her mind was still so bruised and sore and full of doubts, she refused. She couldn't seem to stop her heart from hoping anyway, with the faintest, most wishful of hopes. Without her head in agreement, it was like the fanciful hope of a child to see fairies or a unicorn someday, while secretly, fearfully knowing that it would never be.

Even the sight of the Earth sigil, around her father's neck and in his hand where it was supposed to be, couldn't fully convince her. Star knew that this was strange. Completely irrational. The medallion was absolutely the real thing, she could see it. And there was no way for it to be here, unless Zan had come into the city alive somehow. There was no way for June to have even guessed he had it, unless he had told her in person. It was all the proof anyone could have asked for, and then some, and nearly all the rest of the company was rejoicing over it.

And yet, for some bizarre reason she couldn't explain, Star did not believe it. No matter how many times she had looked at the facts, tallied them up, and seen the impossible reason they made, she couldn't take it in. She would have liked to, but it felt as though that part of her was broken.

More than once, she overheard her family whispering together about how odd it was that she, of all people, was refusing to face the facts. She wanted to explain to them why that was – that she was broken and hurting, and had already accepted so much, and that she was no longer sure which way was up or down. But she also felt sure that no one would understand properly, and that they would insist that she open her eyes to the truth, as if she hadn't been trying to do just that. So she went on sulking in a corner, keeping her complicated feelings to herself.

"I don't get it," she heard June lamenting to her father. "Star has always listened to me. We're best friends; we trust each other with everything. So, why won't she listen to me now? What have I done wrong?"

"You've done nothing wrong," Rowan insisted in his gentle way. "But Star is a stubborn sort, and has far too much on her mind right now. I'm afraid she's gone a bit blind to a few things, through no fault of her own. I've been there, myself, recently... I can't say it doesn't worry me, though."

"Why is that, sir?"

"Because nothing good ever comes of it. Whenever I have closed myself off from the truth, my consequences have been terrible. I come to the same ends, no matter what, but I cause myself more pain and suffering than if I should have. After all that's happened so far, I don't want to watch Star causing that for herself. I wish he would come around..."

It hurt Star in a number of ways to hear all that, even if she knew it was true. Still pretending that she wasn't listening, she saw that her mother had heard them, too, and had come to join them.

"You must remember, my dear, Star is _not_ in her right mind," she pointed out. "She may have to do this the hard way, and there may be no helping it. Besides, as you said, she is so stubborn – as stubborn as you and I combined. All she knows is what she has seen, and she's had her sight set on revenge for days, now. Those are difficult feelings to let go of, even for those who are not the stubborn sort."

"But such feelings are dangerous. I would leave her the time and space to sort it out for herself, but how much time do we have left? I fear we're running out, and I don't know what will happen with her. I hate it to have come so far to find my only daughter, only to lose her again to all this madness."

June sighed deeply. "You don't really think she's going mad, do you?"

"No, of course not. Love and grief make people do the strangest things, but it rarely brings about real, lasting madness. However, if I said a few days' rest will have her back to her usual self, I would be lying. As I suppose you know by now, that is something I cannot do.

All at once, Star was quite done hearing people whispering about her. She had ignored it, mostly, but it hurt especially to see her own parents at it. And it hurt to be the only one in the room still without hope or comfort. She rose and trudged away to the stairs, to join the only other person in the house as miserable as she was.

She found Zamiel cloistered in one of the third floor's hidden rooms, right where he had been since the previous morning – lying in a sad nest of blankets he had made for himself, staring blankly at the ceiling he couldn't really see in the darkness. It seemed like he hadn't moved in hours. Compared to the floors below, it was serenely, broodingly quiet.

"Can I stay here?" she asked quietly.

"I suppose," Zamiel huffed after a moment.

Glad to be in such gloomy company at last, Star threw herself into one of the blankets and turned her gaze to the ceiling. Finally, she felt like she was with someone who understood her completely.

"Did you hear about Junie?" she asked.

"I did."

"And the sigil?"

"I did."

"And... about Zan?"

"...I did."

"So... What do you think?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"I have no idea, and apparently, some people think that makes me mad."

Which she knew very well as a cruel exaggeration; but she was too comfortable in this gloominess, and too put out to care. She was glad when Zamiel reached for her hand and held it tight, silently promising that she was not mad, and that he understood as she had thought he might.

"Maybe everyone else is mad, and we are the only ones who haven't lost their minds yet," he mused. "It seems so foolish to hope for anything just now."

"I'm hopeful," Star insisted. "Just... Not about everything."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"...I _am_ hopeful. I can't help it. I've tried all night to throw it all away, to put out that flame once and for all, before anyone else sees and follows it their deaths. But I can't seem to stamp those embers out completely. There's still a little light, and it refuses to go out. I want to fight for it. I want to fight so desperately, Star, but I don't know if I can. I don't even know if I really want to."

"That light would have gone out hours ago, if you didn't. I want to fight, too. If you told me to, I would do it."

"I wouldn't make you do that, Star. There would be no point in it. I see now that it will take more than careful plans and cunning missions to stand against the Dragon Lord – it will take a miracle. I'm afraid I've never bothered believing in miracles..."

Star had seen Zamiel at his best and worst, his highest and lowest, and had never heard him say anything that made her so sad. Miracles didn't have to be big and fantastic to be real; mostly, she knew them to be small things, like chancing to see an egg hatching, or the way certain flowers always bloomed in time for her birthday. But she had also seen big ones: a lost brother returning home, the reclaiming of a whole people's name, men wielding two elements at once for the sake of a stranger, and escapes from an inescapable dungeon.

All those things had been nothing short of miracles. She hadn't realized that Zamiel had never seen that. It was no wonder, then, that he put all his faith into his own plans, crafting them with all his care and might. He never expected Fate to lend him a hand.

And so it felt awkward to agree with him, anyway. It did, indeed, seem that a loud, sudden miracle was the only way to win the day. In the dark silence, Star found herself meditating on this idea. What if that was the whole point? What if now, in their darkest hour, the Zebak would be saved by the will of the universe, working its own will in its own way? It was nice to think of, but it still seemed bleak. It would take far more than the will of a young, untrained Titan to turn the tide.

A long time passed in the dark silence. Then, there came a moment when Star found the silence sounded different. The heavy pattering of the rain on the roof right above their heads had grown softer. She peered out into the common room and was surprised to see pale light filling the space. Outside the one window she could see, the thick, gray storm clouds were breaking apart. The periwinkle of dawn hoovered just beyond.

"Zamiel? What was the sign you used at the ball? What were the words?"

The man groaned, hating to be reminded. " _Solaris's'ai'abra. Seb's'ai'yuka._ "

"The sun will rise. The dawn will come."

"Yes, that. Why?"

"Because its happening. The sun _is_ rising. Look."

Zamiel sighed and sat up stiffly. He blinked at the light and scratched his head. "Well, would you look at that. I can't believe it's been three days since I've seen the sun. I was beginning to wonder if we would ever see it again... I guess I'll have to change the words a bit, now."

Star gazed up at him, and a wave of relief flooded her heart. He was nearly smiling at the sight of the sunrise, and his words sounded almost hopeful. He looked more like himself, more like he was ready for new ideas and plans. Perhaps all he had needed was a little light – real, warm light from the mother star – to give him courage and direction.

The silence was broken by a clattering up the stairs, and Alanis calling Star's name. She appeared in the doorway faster than Star could get up and answer, and she looked uncommonly anxious.

"So, this is where you've been," she exclaimed. "I've been looking all over the house for you! And – Zamiel, are you still in here? I might have known it. Both of you need to come downstairs. Something magical is happening."

Puzzled in spite of their mood, the two helped each other up and followed Alanis back down the stairs. The closer they came to joining the rest of their company, the more Star could feel the pulsing vibrations of Deep Magic in the air. It wasn't like the sure, steady humming of Earthen magic she knew so well. It reminded her of a heartbeat.

She knew at once that it was coming from the obsidian talisman.

Zizi had found himself nearly alone in the middle of the open room, still clutching the diadem even though he was plainly frightened by what it was doing. None of his countrymen seemed willing to stand too close to it; even Vivi had backed as far away from it as she dared, torn between protecting her brother and having to stand beside the thing he refused to let go of. Not even the Arin, who knew enough about magic to not fear it, kept their distance. It seemed as though they all longed to be near it; but with all the energy it was suddenly emitting, they were afraid that it might hurt them.

Star felt it, too. She was filled with a great desire to run to the talisman. She saw it on every other Zebak face there, too – a nearly aching longing to stand in its mighty presence and let its power shine all over her. It was her birthright. And yet that power was so tremendous, she feared it might consume and destroy her if she came too close.

But Zizi was not completely alone in that mighty, pulsing presence. Rowan was kneeling beside him, holding his small hands steady as they gripped the diadem, marveling with him over the black stone between them. From across the room, his dark eyes were still filled with the golden color of his own magic, shining all the more to be so close to another. And it seemed that Zizi's red eyes had taken on the ruddy gleam of sharp, polished iron – a spiritual sword, in the willing hands of a young disciple.

Something magical was happening, indeed.

"What did I – I don't know what I – what do I do?" Zizi was squeaking. "Why is it – what's it doing?"

"It has awoken," Rowan decided, glancing around at the windows, where the dawn was gaining strength. "It is the light of the sun, I think. Who even knows the last time this stone has tasted its own source of power?"

He considered the stone for a moment, then looked at Zizi with apology in his face. "I had hoped this wouldn't have to come so soon, but it seems there is no choice. It's time you learn another of our responsibilites."

Instead of shrinking in fright, Zizi's face lit up with excitement. "Another one? Oh boy, what is it?"

"We prophesy. From time to time, the Lairad will send messages to their Titans, in the form of signs or visions or rhymes. Then we deliver the message to our people, so that they can understand. I believe your Hallowed Father is trying to tell you something, Zizi. You must answer him."

Zizi nodded, but he also looked very nervous. "You'll help me?"

"Of course, little brother. Don't hold back from it, now. Let it fill you, let it speak through you, as I've shown you. It may hurt a great deal, this first time; but if you trust it and let it work its will, it will be easier."

Following all this advice, Zizi furrowed his brow in concentration, waiting for something to happen.

"You're tensing up, keeping it out. Try to allow it to flow freely; doing your breathing practice will help. And speak to it. Ask what it wants, and what you can do for it. Invite it to work in you. Deep Magic doesn't usually wait for an invitation, but it always likes to have one."

"That sounds – talking to a rock is silly."

"Its not the rock you're talking to."

Zizi smiled a bit and closed his eyes, breathing slow and evenly. It made Star smile, too. Her father had clearly spent time training the boy, the same way he had trained her. Speaking to something so small had seemed silly to her, too, once upon a time; learning that it was a sacred link to something so much bigger, and that it would give what was sought, changed everything.

Star wondered what words Zizi was using, as he silently said hello to the talisman for the first time. She wondered if they knew each other's voices, and what knowledge the talisman had to share. She didn't have to wonder long. Almost at once, the boy took a shuddering gasp as Deep Magic flooded to fill his small body. His mouth fell open, and in two voices, words were pouring out – not in a grating roar, but almost a whisper.

 _To love and war and valor sworn;  
of blood and bone and fire borne,  
to cast away the Master's yolk,  
to purify His hallowed folk.  
Before Him goes a herald, bright:  
_ _the faithful Dragon, filled with might.  
Three days have passed. The battle is won.  
Now, Mother, arise with joyful song._

For a first prophecy, it was frightfully long. It wasn't surprising when Zizi collapsed into Rowan's arms, and the diadem fell with a dull clang to the floor. The boy was gasping for air, perhaps barely conscious; but his hallowed brother knew the feeling very well, and wouldn't have abandoned him for anything. The diadem had quieted as suddenly as it had hummed to life, and the room now felt strangely empty, as Zizi himself must have felt. With nothing to keep them away, a number of people surged forward to see him. Vivi and Leah were kneeling beside him, whispering soothingly as he slowly came around. Several members of the squad were rushing downstairs, intent on finding him a cup of water and a damp cloth for his head.

"He's our king now, right?" Misha laughed as they crowded down the stairs. "Of course we should be tripping over ourselves to serve him! Only the best, for _my_ king."

It was difficult to tell if the man was joking or not. Star could tell that her mother, at least, was not amused by it. She watched as Zeel hesitantly took the diadem in her own hands, carrying it with great fear and reverence, and placed it on the mantle over the fireplace. It would be safe and out of the way there, until its Titan was well enough to carry it again. It was the sensible thing to do; but it was clear that Zeel had surprised herself a bit, wondering how she had dared to touch such a thing with her bare hands. As if she thought she had no right to it, when she had every right in the world.

Still on the stairs beside her, Zamiel heaved a deep sigh and sagged against the railing. His eyes were wide and his brows furrowed as he rubbed his mouth in deep thought. What he had just witnessed had moved him to his core. The look on his face was impossible to read; it was so strange it could have meant many things.

Maybe he was baffled by the taste of his own words in his mouth. What else could this moment be, but a miracle?

Then Star found her eyes meeting her father's, as he stared at her from the center of the room. There was a wildness about him, like excitement and desperation and exasperation all at once. Like tall grass on the open plains, blown about by a great wind.

"The Dragon, Star," he said urgently. "There he is again, just as he has been from the beginning."

Star felt her stomach lurch, knowing at once what he meant. The prophecy certainly did seem to speak of Zan. Whenever he appeared in magical riddles and rhymes, it was always as a Dragon, as if representing his whole people by himself. Rowan knew this. He knew that his daughter knew it. He was begging her to open her eyes at last.

She saw why he was trying to hard to reach her. The time for action was certainly drawing near, and she couldn't afford to blind for it. She was very aware of it; but there was still an empty coldness in her heart. All she could do was tear her eyes away from her father's, and stare silently at her feet, instead.

"You must know it" he went on, nearly pleading with her. "Star, you can't ignore it anymore – you just can't! Don't make the same mistake I did! Open your eyes, and listen, I beg you, my child. You have to."

But Star clapped her hands over her ears, terrified of doing as he said, and also of what could happen if she went on refusing him. What should have been an easy choice – a choice she had made in an instant a few years ago – was now tearing her apart.

As if he was the one being spoken to all along, Zamiel pushed himself off the railing and came to stand with the Titans in Star's place.

"You know I don't mean to question you, sir," he said quietly. "But that's my brother you're talking about. A beloved brother – the youngest – who I know to be dead. Spitefully dead, in the way that is most painful to us all, in place of someone of who that death was meant for. Surely, you can understand it is... difficult, to trust this rhyme."

He must have been prepared to defend himself from the rebuke of a mighty Titan. But Rowan simply nodded toward his younger sisters and said, "Of course I understand. I have no choice but to take the words at face value; but I would have been surprised if you had. It takes a great deal of foolishness, to believe in such things when you are hurting so deeply."

"Then, the rest of these words... What are we supposed to take from them? What do they mean?"

Rowan paused for a moment, thinking about it for himself. Nearby, Zeel had also bowed her head in thought over the words. It was no shock that Shaaran and Norriss drifted out of the crowd to join them. So close were the four, and so good with word puzzles, they might have been sharing a mind in that moment.

"The first part is about Heomiri, Lord of Fire," Shaaran mused first. "That much is obvious."

To this, Zeel scoffed. "The entire first half is about the Hallowed Father," she corrected. "It sounds as though His approach is being announced, and that He is coming with specific purpose."

"Casting aside the yolk of slavery, rescuing His people," Norriss agreed. "What of the Master, though? Could it be the Dragon Lord, or the greater evil they have served, do you think?"

Rowan shrugged at them. "Maybe both. They are very alike in wickedness, and so it is hard for me to tell. Whichever it is, they are doomed once the Lord of Fire appears. He has made that clear."

"What about the herald – this Dragon the words speak of?" Norriss asked. "You believe it to be Zan Garased, but how do you know it so surely?"

"It speaks of a faithful Dragon," Rowan answered simply. "There have been a few riddles over the years, speaking of a Dragon and faith in the same rhyme. In all these instances, it's pointed without fail to Zan – is that not true, my Small Star?"

From her place on the stairs, away from everyone else, Star glared at her father for hauling her further into this foolishness; but he wasn't wrong, and she found it was still impossible for her to lie.

"...Yes..." she grumbled, crossing her arms and scowling at the floor.

That was all they seemed to need. The four quarters nodded together, in whole agreement.

"Then that is perhaps how your brother has come into the city," Shaaran suggested to Zamiel. "If Zan, the Dragon, is Heomiri's herald, then he has bee brought back into the city by Deep Magic. To help rally your people and such, before the Lord of Fire arrives to make His first move against the Master. Oh, its all starting to make a little too much sense, if you ask me."

"I don't know about that, sister. What did the words mean about three days? It seemed strangely specific to me. Does that mean something to anyone here?"

Zeel hummed loudly over that. "It reminds me of something my daughter prophesied a few days ago. _Three_ days ago, now that I think of it. She told me of it in the dungeon – something about a night, and a day, at least. It may be that we have had the answer, or at least a hint the whole time, and were too busy to know it."

Star knew at once which words her mother was talking about. It was part of the same riddle that had begged her to give Zan the Earth sigil in the first place. _The night will end; the day will pass,_ the words had assured her. They had also promised, _all ends will meet and mend, at last_. At the time, Zan had guessed that the words were useless commentary on how changed the city would be, after the night of the ball and the following day had come and gone. They had both been annoyed that it gave no hint as to what those changes would be, and if they would be in the rebels' favor.

But much more than one night and one day had gone by, and didn't seem to her like any ends had been resolved yet.

Zamiel had listened to them patiently, happy to have straight answers from people he trusted so much. "And, what about the very last part? About the Mother, rising? What does that mean?"

The four looked between themselves, seeming to silently talk it over. Before they could answer, Zizi roused himself and pointed to a window, where the dawn was growing brighter by the moment.

"She's there," he rasped, as if it were obvious. "The Mother – The sun – she's rising, like it said. She's here. I can hear – can't you hear her? She's singing. It's happening right – right now. It's all happening."

No, in fact, no one else in the room could hear the sun singing as it rose; but if Zizi said that it was singing as it rose, then Star believed it. She wished she could hear its song; maybe it would heal her unbelief, so she could hope and rejoice like everyone else. It certainly seemed to have healed something in Zamiel, for as he stared out the window, at the rising sun, he was standing straighter, and a new light had filled his eyes.

" _Solaris'ai'abra_ ," he said to himself. " _Seb'ai'yuka_..."

He had changed his own words, as he had said he should. His men saw and heard this at once, and knew what it meant. Thrilled to see a little conviction in his face again, the rest of his squadron drew close.

"There are already plans in place, captain," Zane informed him. "We have others in the city summoning their own people, assigning posts, gathering arms and setting up defenses. The people are in motion. They are ready and willing to follow you, to whatever end. What are your orders?"

Zamiel took a deep breath, aas if inhaling all the strength and courage he had lost from the light of the sun. He was back. He was willing, and he was ready.

"We had discussed the cannons before, remember?" he said right away. "Is there someone seeing to that?"

Zane was so delighted, he looked like he might cry. "A number of people, captain. We haven't heard back from them, but some of the neighborhood kids volunteered to do it. All being well, they should have the cannons loaded and aimed at the palace by now."

"And the wall's defenses?"

"Breached," Zione announced. "The young lady leading that mission reported back last night. The armories in the Northside wall are empty, and the others were quickly following."

"Do we know what's happening in the sewers? If Keids ever wanted to lead his own army into the sunlight, now is the time."

To that, Marlie raised her hand to answer. "One of his crew visited us in the night – the woman Mavis, his left hand. She came after curfew and couldn't stay long, but she brought us a promise that the pirates were with us. She, too, mentioned the dawn, but didn't seem to know what it meant, herself. I believe we can expect them shortly."

She looked over her shoulder at the window, where the periwinkle sky was quickly turning pink and gold, and clicked her tongue. "Quite shortly," she added.

Zamiel seemed satisfied with that. "I think we can trust the sewer folk to handle the streets well enough. For sure, more monsters than ever will be sent to subdue us; but the common folk alone will outnumber them 50 to one, at least, and that is before the folk below us join the fray. What about the city's smallest children? The radio said they had been rounded up and taken somewhere – do we know where?"

The company shrugged sadly and shook their heads.

"We've kept our ears and eyes open, captain, but we haven't heard anything," Zhena said, sounding more wounded by it than anyone else. "Our best guess is either Old Rin, or within the palace, itself. There is nowhere else massive enough to hold so many small, frightened people at once."

"Then we will take care about those places," Zamiel assured her, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We _will_ find them, and we _will_ free them like everyone else, make no mistake, my friend."

With that settled, he gazed over the company before him – young and old, male and female, Arin and Zebak with so many skills and talents between them – and clapped his hands together. "Then the only thing left is how to get into the palace. We will have to, if we are to finish our pretend queen's reign of terror once and for all. With the people seeing to all other posts, that task appears to be left to us."

He knew for sure that his men were with him. It was clear in their faces that they had been ready to storm the palace from the very beginning, and had awaited their captain's permission ever since. What he hadn't expected was for the Titan of Earth to rise, stand beside him, and grip his shoulder in friendship.

"I will join you in this mission, Zamiel Garased. I may not be a warrior; but with an unending source of strength in hand once again, I can be your shield."

Zamiel was aghast, for a number of reasons. "My lord, I would never ask – "

"First of all, I am _not_ your lord, never say such things again," Rowan told him, almost severely. "Second of all, you don't have to ask. I wish to do this for you. I _must_ do this, for I have dealings of my own with my so-called, 'hallowed sister'."

Zamiel saw what he meant, and didn't argue. This man had forgiven him, and found common ground with him, and was filled with the might and power of the stars. None of this could be said of Zadina. They needed each other in this moment.

With that decided, Zeel came to stand with him, and took his hand in her own. "Then I've no choice but to come with you."

"And neither do we," Norriss agreed, as he and Shaaran also joined them. "Now that we're together again, you won't be separating us that easily."

In another time, Rowan would have done anything he could think of to push them away, trying to protect them in the only way he knew how. Today, facing the greatest battle of their lives, he only smiled gratefully at their courage and loyalty. "Good," he said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Don't forget about me," Annad said loudly, jumping into the circle they had formed. "If freeing people and dispensing justice is the name of the game, then I'm in. And don't even bother trying to talk me out of it, husband. I've waited my whole life for this! I'm going, whether you like it or not."

And so she was pleased that not one of them fought her over it. They welcomed her into the circle, glad to have her help.

"Zamiel, wait for me! I'm with you, too!"

The unexpected voice had come hollering the floor below, stamping up the stairs like a storm. All eyes turned to look, and Star's mouth fell open. It couldn't be... It just couldn't...

But it was. There, dripping wet, skirts torn, violet eyes shining, and grinning like a fool, stood Zan.


	14. Chapter 13: The Herald

When they fire your head chef. Four days before restaurant week. You don't sleep much, or eat much besides cake and pudding for a while. And then three months have passed, and you've had _another_ birthday, and started _another_ new job. Ask me how I know this. :/

I'm sorry that Zan is basically Jesus – died horrifically, was "dead" and in "hell" for a bit, and then rose at dawn on the third day. You know how I am about Dragons and Jesus by now; but we had just come out of Christmas, and Lent was coming up hard and fast when I wrote most of this, so. I just tickled me more than I can say at the time.

On that note, I'm pulling another fun story-telling technique from something else I've written. The same one that gave us the ever-changing points of view from chapter 8. I find it helpful for brief flashbacks. Or, in this case, flashbacks that take up an entire chapter. ;D

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 _Chapter 13: The Herald_

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Bhlai House had never heard such a joyful din, and never would again. A dozen people were nearly shrieking with gladness as they ran to envelop Zan in the largest, most inescapable hug he had ever been given. In another time, he would have accepted it grudgingly, rolling his eyes and dryly insisting that he was fine and not worth the fuss. Today, he let their love roll over him like a wave, hugging back as many as he could at once, exclaiming just as loudly as the rest.

Star, of all people, should have been the first to reach him; but all she could do was stand and stare, frozen in amazement with her hands over her gaping mouth. She almost couldn't breathe, and her heart was leaping like a young creature. For the first time in days, it was filled with real, pure joy, with no fear or anxiety to cloud it. It was suddenly all she could do to stand on her own feet.

Then at last he looked up from the crowd of overjoyed family, past the crowd of strangers, and saw her. The same look of disbelieving amazement filled his eyes. He blinked and shook his head; and when he looked again, she was still there.

Before she fully knew it, she was flying across the room, uncontrollable laughter choking out of her throat. He was pushing past his family and running to catch her in his arms. He spun her around, kissed her face over and over, fell to his knees weeping and laughing and hauled her with him, and held her close to his heart, as they babbled all the same things to each other.

You're alive! _How_ are you alive? How is it possible? What does it matter?

He smelled of damp and sand and days of tears, and she was sure she smelled no better. But she was sure he would never let go of her, and she couldn't think of letting him out of her sight again. The coldness and unbelief was gone. She felt like she was alive again.

"But you were gone," she exclaimed, for what seemed like the hundredth time. "You were sent into the wastes to die! How on earth did you survive?"

"How did _I_ survive?" he almost shouted back, staring hard into her face. " _You_ were face to face with the Dragon Lord! She was going to kill you! Why didn't she – I don't care. I don't care! I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never see you again..."

Every second she had passed mourning him and carrying on as she had promised, he had passed, as well. And somehow, Fate had allowed them to be reunited. It was a rare blessing for any couple parted by war or evil. Dimly, Star realized, it shouldn't surprise her so much. Almost every couple in this room could say the same. And now, so could she.

A new kind of amazement filled Zan's face, and he gripped her shoulders with an urgency that did surprise her. "Star, I have so much to tell you. So much! You won't believe what I've just been through – it's _Him_! I've seen Him, I've talked with Him! He's real! The Dragon is _real_!"

"Wait, wait... _What_?"

"The Hallowed Father, Star. You asked how it's possible – well, that's how. He rescued me. I've been with Him, in the wastes these last few days. Star, you won't even believe what He's like! He's everything you said He was, and all we had ever hoped He would be, and so much more. And He's here – He's here right now!"

A figure was suddenly looming over them, shaking and glowing with excitement. "It was you!"

Star and Zan looked up to see Rowan staring at them, his dark eyes wide with wonder of his own.

"The Hallowed Father said He had a guest," the Titan went on. "It was you all along!"

Zan scrambled to his feet to stand up straight before him, looking absolutely terrified. He had honestly hoped to never have to face him again, had never counted on him traveling all the way back to the city for any reason, for he had had no way to do it. And now he had taken the man's only daughter in his arms and kissed her with all his passion – in his sight. He had been so happy to be home again; but now he seemed to want to disappear.

Rowan saw all this plainly, and held his hands out in peace. "Please, young man, there is no need in the world for that," he insisted. "I mean you no harm – unless you call me your lord. Then I will have to smack some sense into you."

He was trying to be seem casual, approachable, because he knew what this meeting meant for both of them. Star could see on her father's face, though, that he had no more expected to meet again than anyone else. Their one conversation, so long ago, had been so tense, so awkward, so hostile. Would they let that moment decide what came next?

It was to Star's great relief when her father did stretch out his hand and placed it on Zan's shoulder, looking his face over in great approval. "You are not the boy we pulled out of my coat closet, those years ago. You look good, Zan Garased."

Blinking in relief of his own, Zan nodded his thanks. "...So do you, sir," he mumbled, not sure how to answer.

"Almost certainly, I do," Rowan agreed right away, nearly laughing. "I was a mess that morning."

Finally, seeing that he was in no danger, Zan was able to relax. He even dared to smile. "So, you've seen the Hallowed Father, too?"

"I have. He met my company on our way here, three days ago."

"Oh! That's where He went? He left me alone in His den that morning; said He had urgent business on the shore and would return shortly. He wasn't gone half an hour, but He wouldn't tell me what it was all about. I didn't bother dreaming it was _you,_ of all things _."_

"He probably told you it was better to just wait and see, I suppose?"

"He did! He said the same to you, then?"

Rowan shrugged. "I have to say, He was right about that. I think you were the pleasant surprise we all needed, just now."

He was now gazing knowingly down at Star with an easy smile. As if to point out how useless her despair had been, but understanding and forgiving her for it. For the first time in days, she found a reason to smile back at her father, thankful for his patience.

She also looked over her shoulder to peek at June, the one person in the house who hadn't been shocked and overjoyed to see Zan return. Of course, she had been telling the truth all along. Star felt worse and worse by the second for snapping at her friend, and refusing to believe her; again, she was afraid to look at her, to see the face she was making. June simply smiled back, even winked at her, silently promising that it was water under the bridge – even if she _had_ told her so.

But the whole crowd had been listening as Zan had gone on and on about the Lord of Fire; and now Arin and Zebak alike were gathering close around him, dying to hear more. Most of the Arin were still marveling and curious over their short encounter with Him. All the Zebak were plainly aching for word of their Hallowed Father, so long left to legends.

And certainly, all were beside themselves to hear of Zan's time in the wastelands. Of how it had all come about, how he had passed those days with the Dragon, and how he had come back into the city. With a few tears still streaming down her face, Vivi had grabbed his hand was bouncing with uncontrollable excitement.

"I _told_ you, didn't I?" She nearly cackled. "Didn't I tell you dragons could be real? Don't you remember? And I was right! I just _knew_ I was right the whole time! Did He try to eat you first? Did you have to fight Him? How big is He – as big as a house? As big as _this_ house? Oh – do you think Keids could take Him? I bet he could!"

"Nothing of the sort," Zan insisted, snatching his hand back and looking almost offended. "He isn't like the dragons in stories. The Lord of Fire is kind and good, and loves us. He loves all of us, every person in this room, as His own children – because we are. If He is angry with anyone, it is with the Enemy in the south."

Many faces peered at him curiously. It was a rare treat to see Zan like this in public, even with friends and family he trusted; but none could have imagined him speaking so surely, or so affectionately about a Dragon. Even Star had never heard such a thing from him before. Not long ago, he had refused to believe that dragons could be real at all.

Seeing all the puzzled faces and staring eyes on him, Zan shook his head and sank back to the floor. "Alright, alright. Everyone sit down. We've got work to do, but we have enough time for one quick story. It must be told. You all deserve to hear it, and... Well, I guess I've earned a short rest."

And not one person protested, or said a single word. The entire crowd seemed to fall to the floor at once, anxious to hear his tale, at last. Star snuggled close to him, taking his hand again, and placed all her focus on his words. A tale like this deserved a place among the Titan stories of old, and she promised herself that not one word would be out of place when she wrote it down for the world to see.

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I blinked, and the lights had gone out. I was alone in the dark and cold, and the sand beneath my feet was crawling with unseen terrors. I knew they were coming. I knew they had sensed my presence, had smelled my flesh and blood, and were hungry for fresh meat. I had been told of them from cradle, of how they leave behind nothing but the bones of wicked children like me. And now I was among them, and they were coming for me, and I would die the death I had spent my whole life fearing most.

Before I could think, a monster from my earliest nightmares burst from the earth beside me. I know I screamed as I fell to the ground, unable to protect myself; but all I could hear was its shrieking cries, and the snapping of its jaws. I knew it was over. I knew that I was going to die, as my friends and family and all I had ever known and loved was dying.

But the beast suddenly grew quiet, and the trembling earth below became still. I looked, and a light had appeared – and with it, a man. The monster had lowered its ghastly head before him, and it was as if all its kind had bowed before him. And He had taken the thing's great pincers in his hands with great love, as though it were a beloved pet, speaking gently to it.

"Tubai-saba," he said, as though calling it by name, "this is no way to behave at a time like this. He is not food, he is our guest. We will treat him with the honor of a prince, while he is among us. Go now, and tell the others to be on their best behavior from now on, is it clear? I don't want any trouble from a single one of you again."

And without another sound, the ishken writhed back into its hidden burrows, and the ground quaked as it slithered off to do its bidding. The ground was suddenly still, and the night had become quiet.

Already, I could guess who had discovered me – for who else could tame the ishken so easily, and give them orders as thought could understand and obey? Only the One who had made them in the first place, I was sure. As He turned and faced me, it was clear that He had carried no light with Him – He _was_ the light that had appeared. His whole body shone in the night like a great torch in the dark, like a star fallen to earth.

Which, of course, is just what He is.

He knelt before me, and simply looked at me for a long moment. It looked, in His eyes, that He had waited for the sight of me for a long time, and that He could hardly believe that I had finally arrived. As much as I could hardly believe that He was real. At last, He smiled and spoke to me.

"I greet you, Zan Garased. Welcome to my home. Do you know who I am?"

All at once, I had the strangest feeling of being home, myself, if only because He was beside me. I was filled with a longing I couldn't explain, but was frozen in awe and wonder. All thoughts of my city, my family, and our fate had vanished from my mind.

But my one true love had taught me well. I knew the answer, and I knew how to say it.

"You are Heomiri, son of Solaris, Lord of Fire," I exclaimed at last. As soon as I had said it out loud, something that had already changed in me changed again. A great hope had become real. A wish I had never thought of to make, but had always hidden silently been in my heart, had been granted.

And He was glad to hear it. He grinned and held out His hand to me; and I took it without thinking twice. How I longed to touch Him! To take His hand and be beside Him, as He was beside me, and never be apart again. I couldn't have helped myself if I had wanted to.

"Walk with me, my son," said He. "Come with me into my den for the night. We have much work to do, and you need your strength."

I had no idea what He meant by that. I didn't care. I would have walked with my Hallowed Father to the world's end, if He had led me, without wondering how it would be possible. But He didn't lead me so far, that night; all He led me to was a hole in the ground, and a cave beneath.

There, He begged me to sit and rest. In my own mind, I had no time for rest, while my city was under siege and my family was in danger; but I also couldn't dream of denying my Hallowed Father anything. He brought me food and water, baked and purified in His own flame, and told me to have my fill. It was a simplest meal I have ever eaten, and the best I will ever have in this life. I already know this for certain.

Then He laid me down to sleep, as a father puts his own children to bed, and told me to sleep. And He wished me a deep sleep, with no dreams to trouble it, for we had much to discuss, and hard work to do.

When I woke, the sun was rising. I found the Dragon standing in the growing light, gazing with sorrow toward the city. I could see the smoke over the wall, and smell the flames. I could almost smell the evil that had invaded our home, and my heart ached over it.

"My children have suffered in silence for a terrible age," said He, "but no more. I have waited in helpless banishment for far too long. It ends today."

"How is this?" I asked. "Is this the work we have to do?"

"Not quite, my son," said the Dragon. "There is a great power in your human heart; but a spell beyond your strength must be broken this morning."

I had no idea what He was talking about now; He didn't seem to want to discuss it fully, just to see that I was aware of it. It ought to have bothered me intensely. The whole thing ought to have bothered me. I felt that I should have been shaking with reverence, or at least confusion, or fear, or _something_. I thought of all the questions I've always had, about our history and the laws of nature and Deep Magic, and how He could finally answer them.

All I continued to feel was strangely content to just _be_ with Him, standing at His side, even as we silently lamented over the sight of the city. I couldn't explain it, and it nearly bothered me... But I was so at peace, being bothered seemed too much of a bother. I still don't know if that makes any sense whatever. But in my heart, it makes all the sense in the world.

As I gazed upon my city, I realized why, and my heart ached anew. It was mostly because of Star – my precious treasure, who had shared with me all she knew of Dragons and Magic, never guessing she had prepared me for this moment. I knew my Hallowed Father already, because of her teaching and patience as I slowly, reluctantly learned. I knew His name, His great powers, and His love for us. His love for me, personally, though we had never met. I knew I didn't need to fear Him. I knew I could trust Him. And so I did, without thinking twice.

My sorrow grew and began to consume me. Along with my city and people, my love had certainly been lost. The last thing I knew was that she lay at the feet of the Dragon Lord, with no way to escape. Half-Arin and filled with a dangerous power, it had been the queen's will to destroy her. She would have had the first time, if only I hadn't stood in her way; but what was that small surprise to her wrath? She would have done the deed in some other way at once.

My Star was dead. If I could be sure of anything else, it was this. I've never been brokenhearted over anything in my life before; and so it took a long, painful moment to understand the terrible, unyielding ache that was overwhelming me. What little strength I had regained vanished, and I fell to my knees in the sand.

The Dragon noticed this, and seemed to want to speak. But then he turned his head back to the city, leaving me with my grief. There was no reason for someone like Him to be so respectful. No one ever has been to me before. My despair was unbearable, and I had never been so grateful.

Long moments passed in sad silence, and then He turned to the west. "Help has come, at last," He said simply. "I must go to the shore and see to it at once. Wait here for me, and I will return shortly. Don't wander off, now. My dear ones know to behave for now; but there are far too many other ways for you to get in trouble. Promise me you will stay here, where you will be safe."

He didn't wait for me to answer. When I looked up to ask what He meant, He had vanished. I should have been startled by how suddenly He could come and go; but I knew better, and was overcome with sorrow. I don't think anything could have surprised me, then.

Now that I was alone in the desert, with my city in view, the temptation to do exactly what He had said not to was burning in my belly. It was too late by now to save my love, or my family, but it is never too late for vengeance. I had nothing left but my own life to be lost, which made me dangerous. Perhaps most so to myself. Realizing this, and that I had no way back, and no plan, and no allies now, I crept instead back into the den. There was nothing left to be done but to sit sullenly and wait, hating myself and everything that had happened.

As He had promised, He wasn't gone long at all. The sun had barely moved by the time He reappeared. And, though He was already incredible as He was, He was different, somehow. He seemed as if He had come to life. Greater life, somehow.

"The spell has been broken," He announced, as though it were obvious. "My waiting is over, after all these years."

And, in spite of all the pain in my heart, His words puzzled me and made be burn with curiosity, so that some life came back to me, as well. Perhaps that had been His plan.

"What spell?" I asked. "What even happened? Who did you see?"

The Dragon shrugged His mighty shoulders and sat beside me. "It is of little importance just now. It will be better for you to wait and see, I think. I've waited an age for this moment; for you, I can wait another few hours. Our friends have work of their own to do, and so we have time to ourselves, you and I."

I couldn't help squinting at Him. It may not seem appropriate, but I felt like I could be almost normal around Him. He was being alarmingly normal with me, after all. We were somehow so comfortable with each other, as a family ought to be.

"Why wait at all?" I demanded. "And what are we supposed to do with all this time to ourselves?"

"A pleasant chat would be nice," the Dragon said evenly. "Five thousand years is a long time to sit alone in the desert, you know. Tell me about yourself – your family, your friends, the life you've lived and the work you've done."

And so, with nothing else to do, and feeling at first like I was being held against my will, I told Him all about my life from the beginning. I told Him of my brothers, and our squadron, and the rebellion we had started together. He asked of each one of them by name, nodding in understanding at them all as though He knew exactly who they were and what all their own small problems were. I told Him of our bondage to Central Control, and the work we all hated so much. I told Him of our secret meetings, of our codes and messages, and of the Crusaders.

We talked a long time about flying ships, and all the ideas I wasn't supposed to have about them. He smiled over my passion, having no knowledge of the craft, but asking to know more and insisting that my plans must be good ones. He reminded me of my Star, that way.

I told Him more and more about my Arin friends and the closeness that had grown between us. My thoughts drifted more and more to the love I had lost, and the weather seemed to change to match my mood. Dark, angry clouds drifted over the sky, promising rain, and the Dragon frowned over it.

"This young lady of yours," He said abruptly. "She must have been very beautiful. She must have had an incredible spirit."

It was crushing to speak of. I couldn't answer Him. My silence seemed to be answer enough.

"I know how it feels," He said, "to watch your lady slip through your fingers. Time and nature stole mine, those eons ago. All that remains is our beloved children, lost to this evil in our land. It never gets any easier to bear."

It was incredible to think that a being like the Lord of Fire could understand what I felt. His wife, His family, His city – He had lost it all, just as I had. I began to understand why He had wanted to speak with me. We needed each other, in this desperate hour.

I showed Him the great wonder Star had entrusted me with. The talisman of her people, the source of the Earth Titan's power, so far from home and perhaps lost forever, now. The Dragon took it in His great hand, marveled at the power within it, and smiled.

"It certainly feels like my Brother," He said, deep fondness in His voice. "It's been long ages since we've met. It is nice to see Him again, this way. I think He would approve of your lady's choice, and of your courage. You've kept Him safe, after all."

It felt like I had failed, in just having the thing on my person, instead of where it truly belonged. All at once, the Dragon's words put a comfort in my heart. I hadn't been able to do much at all; but now, I could at least feel satisfied with it.

The clouds above seemed to grow thicker, nearly smothering, blotting out the sun. The hour grew late, and the Dragon sensed that the sun was setting. We shared another meal, and I was told to lie down and sleep once again.

"Rest well, my son," He told me. "The Mother will rise again in due time. And when She does, we will begin our work."

But it was still dark, when He shook me from my slumber.

"The city sits shrouded in the night, and the evil there suspects nothing. We strike now."

That was all He said. I hadn't blinked, and the safe, dry den was gone. We stood instead in the gloomy darkness, in a place I knew well. It was the Southside square, though destroyed and terribly changed. The Dragon looked to the pouring sky, peering through heavy cloud, knowing that His Mother was going to rise, whether we would see it or not.

"This is our city's darkest hour, Zan," He told me gravely. "They need a light to see by. Even the tiniest spark will do – it is all they need, to be set ablaze once again. You will be that spark, my son. You will be the light in the dark to guide them."

By now, I should have been fine with this. I should have jumped at it, set forth on my incredibly important mission at once. But all my old insecurities gripped me, every mistake I had ever made came to mind, and I doubted myself. I was still the youngest, the smallest, the weakest, and the sole survivor by a tragic accident. How on earth could _I_ be expected the guide so many people, when I was so lost and so broken?

All of which I found myself babbling in a drowsy panic, almost before I realized I was speaking. Anyone else in the city would have begged me to lower my voice, before the lurking monsters crept from the cold shadows; but the Dragon simply listened to all my doubts, not at all surprised that I would have so many.

And, as anyone else would have warned us, monsters clad in old fashioned uniforms heard my voice in the silence. It was like they had slunk out of thin air, brandishing crude weapons and vile grins. They were suddenly all around the square, surrounding us, too many to be dealt with.

But the Hallowed Father only narrowed His flashing eyes at one of them, and the thing burst into a cloud of sickly smoke. Before its fellows could charge in a rage as they wanted to, He waved His hand over the square. In one short second, the whole gang had collapsed in tangled, empty heaps of cloth and metal.

And that was the end of that. Looking pleased with His work, the Dragon placed His hands on my shoulders and smiled.

"If you can rally so much trouble, Lion Man, you can rally at least that much help." He looked off for a minute, thinking something over, and then back to me. "I sense that your brother is alive, and has wrestled his way to freedom. He can lead my children to victory, as he was born to do; but his spirit is weakened, and his heart is very sore. You know that he could never do this alone. He needs you to rekindle his light, too. Can you do it for me?"

I was shaking with nerves, but His touch gave me strength and filled me with warmth. It was comfortable, familiar, as though I had known it once and was just now remembering what it felt like. I was like there was nothing I couldn't do.

And so I stood straight and asked, "How are we going to do it?"

He clearly liked this, and that I assumed we would do it together. "Go forth, into the city, and rouse your brothers and sisters. Wake them from their sleep, pull them out of hiding, and let them know that I have returned to them, at last. Tell them that the rumors are all true, and that help as come."

"Wait, what rumors?"

"Never mind that, you will see in time. Tell them also to gather themselves. The Mother will rise shortly, and when She does, my children must make themselves ready for battle. Give them hope, and courage. Tell them not to be afraid, for their Father is with them, once again."

Those were mighty orders, indeed; but it was rather like the crusading I had become so good at. No wonder the Hallowed Father wanted me to do this, I realized. I was one of the only people in the city with the knowledge and skill to do it well.

A crazy coincidence? In another time, I would have assumed it and thought no more about it. But after the last few days, I no longer believed in coincidences, any more than Star ever had. There was only Fate – the vengeful and loving will of the universe, working all happenings to its glorious purpose.

"What about you, Father?" I asked. "What are you going to do?"

The Dragon squared His shoulders and gazed toward the black, towering shape of the palace, high above us.

"I have a meeting with my wayward daughter. I don't relish the punishment she has coming, but she must be dealt with. I fear it will not go well... But it will be nice to look upon her face, just once, before I send her true master out of my land for good."

So much the better, I decided. Who else in all the world would be able to bring down our so-called queen? That part, at least, would be made easy for us all. But the Dragon clearly was not looking forward to what words they would exchange, and what she would force Him to do. It was almost strange to me; I certainly couldn't have been happier to never look at her face again.

"Now, go," He said. "Let your light shine in the dark. Find your way, and the rest will follow at once."

"I can do it," I said, "But... Will I see you again?"

For, you see, I suddenly couldn't bear the thought of being apart, when we had only just been reuited. I hadn't thought that we would part ways so soon, and that He wouldn't be there beside me. But He took my face in His nighty hands and held me close, as only a father can.

"Oh, Lion Man, I have always been with you, and always will be, and we will meet again," He promised. "Do your work, and do it well, in my absence. The Mother will rise tomorrow, as She rises every morning; at dawn, look to the tower. Then, we will all be together again."

And again, I blinked. And again, He had gone. I was alone in the murky dark, in streets I had known all my life. I had my mission, and I knew the signs to watch for. And I knew that my brother was alive! Knowing what it was like to worry over him for a change, I began the most important crusading journey of my life.

The first few hours were perilous, watching for the guards and creeping by them as only I knew how to. The streets were crowded with debris, and many of my usual shortcuts had been been totally destroyed. A cold light slowly seeped through the cloud, and I found that most of the guards were slinking out of the city. People began to come out, without me calling them first. They were anxious and tired, but glad to see me. I gave them hope and orders, as I had been instructed, and not one person I met refused.

The day dragged on, and I strayed from the streets I knew. I found myself in Northside, where so few people believed or even knew of our cause. So much of the beauty and grandeur I had spent my life envying was gone. Masters and wealthy folk were fearful, their livelihoods ruined and their children ripped from their homes, and most refused to hear me. But the people they had owned were hopeful at my words, and quite ready for a change. I watched as they rebelled at once against their masters and made themselves ready to join the fight.

They asked what they could do to help. Knowing I couldn't complete my task before the next morning, I sent them, too, to be lights in the dark. To rally others, and arm them, and to make their way to the city square, gathering rebels along the way. Glad to have tasks of their own, they left their dumbfounded masters and old lives behind for good.

The cloud gave way to rain, as it had promised. I was growing weary and hungry, but there was no time to rest. Even when the rain began to pour, and the light began to fade, and the guards returned to watch the city, I continued my work. It wasn't until the curfew was ordered that I was forced to stop, taken in for a few hours by a family I knew from the rebellion.

And rest, I did, for a time. I ate and drank what they offered me, and dared to sleep. The rain was still pouring when I woke, and I slipped away into the night while my friends slept, leaving them to dream of the fight to come.

I was back in Southside, at last, and rousing people from their slumber, indeed. Many were unable to sleep, preparing arms and plans for the coming day. And the news I heard from my neighbors took my breath away.

Rowan of Rin had returned to Habaharan, with all his most famous friends. The Central Dungeon had been compromised and emptied in a single night. Ragged people were crawling out of the sewers to join the fight. My brother, and most of our squadron, were hiding in our old base, making plans and sending out orders, as of course they would.

And Star – my sweet, precious, wonderful Star – was among them. She was alive! I couldn't believe it at first. It was impossible, after I was so sure to never see her again. But so many people had seen her, I could see it was the truth.

I ached to run back home, to Bhlai House, where my friends and family and my love were gathered; but my work wasn't finished. I knew I had to stay the course, but I longed to be with them. And I knew that the Earth Sigil, still hidden in the pocket of my tattered skirt, _must_ be returned to its rightful owner at once.

It came to me, I would have to task someone with taking the medallion there, where it's Titan waited for it. But it would have to be someone I trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt...

And I knew exactly who that person was. I had hoped to put it off as long as possible, but I turned my feet toward the house of Zared Azan, wondering what had become of my hated master, and what had become of June Barsa.

When I came to the place, I met a pair of the household staff watching the back gate. When I asked, they were overly glad to run and find my friends, to sneak her out of the house and over the gate to meet me. She was glad to see me, too, and no wonder. At a time like this, I could only imagine what her sister had put her through.

I pushed the Sigil into her sturdy hands and begged her to take it to Bhlai House for me. She looked puzzled, not understanding why I should have it to give her; but her only question was why I couldn't do it, myself. All I had time to answer was that I had been sent on a mission, and had to see it through, and that I was sending _her_ on a mission of her own. I promised to meet her there in a few hours, when my work was done, and that I would explain it then.

And I told her not to lose hope, and that all would be well, and left to finish my work. I was nearly back in the square where I had started the morning before. I had traveled across in the entire city in a day and a night. It was almost complete.

Then I would return home, at last. There would faces I knew well, and others I did not; people I loved more than my own life, and people I honestly dreaded having to see again. But it would be home, for a short time.

And then, when the Mother rose, Heomiri would return, and the battle for our city would begin.

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 _Author's Notes..._

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I should probably edit this more, but I'm _sooooooooooooo_ ready for it to be done. I've been trying to get all the details and words right for months, and I'd like to move on to

 _THE BATTLE FOR HABAHARAN!_

Already.

I'm 27 now? Yikes, what am I even doing with my life? Did I mention I went ahead and named all of Heomiri's first children and started a geneology table? Again, what am I doing with my life?

It's been a harrowing year, so far, but at least I'm in a better work situation now. I might be on a salary for the first time in my life by the end of the summer! And I'm starting a freelance writing business that could be off its feet by... _Christmas_... I worry over this, because that's always the deadline I give myself, and (as you know) I never make it. :/

Let's hope the next chapter happens at some point before then. That would be nice. XD


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